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MEMOIRS

OF

HENRY HUNT, ESQ.

Written by Himself,

IN HIS MAJESTY'S JAIL AT ILCHESTER,

IN THE COUNTY OF SOMERSET.

Volume 3

"Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see,
Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.
In every work regard the Writer's end,
Since none can compass more than they intend;
And if the means be just, the conduct true,
Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due."
POPE.

MEMOIRS OF HENRY HUNT.

This wanton outrage was perpetrated in the presence of those, who will, perhaps, blush when they read this. I do not say that this was done by the Magistrate; but it was done by the gang that surrounded him, and I know the villain who did it. The poor thing lay senseless for some time; no one of the numerous spectators daring to go to her assistance. When she came to her senses, she was covered from head to foot with blood, that had flowed from the wound, which was on the scalp, and was four inches in length. In this state she came running to me, and made her way up to the front of the procession:—we halted, horror-struck at her appearance. The blood was streaming down her snowy bosom, and her white gown was nearly covered with the crimson gore; her cap and bonnet and clothes had been torn to rags; her fine black hair reached her waist; and, in this state, she indignantly recounted her wrongs. O God, what I felt! There were from four to five thousand brave Bristolians present, who heard this tale, and with one accord they burst forth in exclamations of revenge; every man of them was worked up to such a pitch of excitement by the cruelty of the atrocious act, that they would have instantly sacrificed their lives, to have executed summary justice upon the cowardly authors of it. I own that I never was so near compromising my public duty, by giving way to my own feelings, as I was at this moment. Burning with indignation, I half turned my horse's head; but, recovering my reason, I took the fair sufferer by the hand, and led her forward, admonishing my friends not to be seduced into the trap, that had been so inhumanly set for them. In this state we proceeded through the streets of Bristol; the poor girl streaming with blood. I took her to my inn, sent for a surgeon, and had the wound dressed and the scalp sewed up. She never failed to attend the election every day afterwards, and she displayed as genuine a specimen of female heroism, as ever I met with in my life.

I could relate a hundred such instances of the manly conduct of my loyal opponents during the election, if I chose; but, in spite of their baseness, we continued steadily and resolutely to attend the poll, from nine till four, for fifteen days; our enemies writhing with the expense that was daily incurred, and groaning under the lash of my daily exposures.

The above-named Mr. Goldney was, in his private character, esteemed a very worthy man; but when he gave way to the baleful system of factious politics, he became as great a tool, and as blind a bigot to the over-ruling power of intimidation, as any one of the execrable gang that composed the Members of the White Lion Club. "But list! O list!" Amiable as Mr. Goldney is, he could not resist the temptation of coming to Ilchester, out of his own County of Gloucester, forty miles, to have a peep at the captive in his cage. I, however, felt just as much superior to him, when I saw him here, as I did when he was running about with Burn's Justice in his hand, exclaiming, "Stop, and hear the Riot Act read!" If he meant to gratify himself, by having a peep at him, whom the Courier calls a fallen leader of the rabble, he never was more disappointed in his life; for he came just at the time that I had substantiated before the Commissioners all my charges against the Gaoler and the Magisstrates.

Every evening, after coming from the hustings, I went to the public Exchange, and delivered an oration to the assembled multitude, who always came there at that time to hear an account of the transactions of the day; for the Guildhall was not capable of containing a fiftieth part of the inhabitants who were interested in the election. It will be recollected, and let it never be forgotten, that not only the whole press of Bristol, but the whole press of England was employed in traducing and vilifying me; for I was daily exposing the two factions who had united against me: in fact, that has been always the case, both the factions have always united against every friend of the people, whether in or out of Parliament. Mr. Oldfield, in his History of the Boroughs, gives this short account of this election: "Henry Hunt, Esq. of Middleton Cottage, in Hampshire, offered himself as a candidate, upon the old constitutional system, of incurring no expenses, nor canvassing votes. He was received with every demonstration of popular enthusiasm, though the newspapers were hired to traduce him, and every measure was resorted to, that the ingenuity of his opponents could devise, to injure him in the public opinion."

This is a brief, but a true, history of the case; this election was, perhaps, one of the most severe and expensive contests that the White Lion Club, or Tory Faction, ever had to encounter; and, for the purpose of shortening it, every art, trick, and manoeuvre was resorted to, in the vain hope of drawing me off from the main point, that of being always present upon the hustings, and keeping open the poll. They flattered themselves, too, with the idea, that it would be physically impossible for me to hold out. I was, indeed, very ill, for I had caught a cold, and laboured under an irritation of the lungs, which bordered closely on inflammation, and was aggravated by daily speaking. The papers announced, that I was suffering under a very severe fit of illness, although I never quitted the hustings. This reached my family at Rowfant, in Sussex, and they began to grow uneasy upon the subject. Fortunately, they set off to Bristol the very day before one of the most diabolical acts of malice and cowardice, that ever disgraced the character of a human being, was put into execution by my despicable opponents. One of the cowardly wretches wrote into Sussex, a letter to one of my family (it was to a female too!) in the name of the Chairman of my Committee, to say, that I had fallen a sacrifice to the fury of the mob, whose rage had been turned against me by some circumstance. The caitiff described, in very pathetic language, the distress of my friends, and requested instructions for the funeral of the mangled corpse. This letter was written in the most plausible manner; the hand-writing and name of the Chairman of my Committee was forged, and every thing was admirably calculated to give the impression, that it was genuine truth. But, fortunately, this fiendish scheme failed of its purpose; for, as my family had left Rowfant before the letter arrived, the letter was never opened till we returned together after the election was over.

The day subsequent to the closing of the election, Mr. Davis was to be chaired; he having been returned by a very large majority, only Two Hundred and Thirty-five freemen having voted for me. I left Bristol on that day for Bath, as I by no means wished to interrupt the ceremony of chairing Mr. Davis, who was so very unpopular, that half the city were sworn in as special constables on the occasion, and all the avenues were barricaded and blockaded with three-inch deal planks, to prevent the populace from making any sudden rush upon the procession. He was chaired amidst the hisses, groans, and hootings of an immense majority of the population. I had promised to return to dine with my friends the day following.

The White Lion Club immediately printed and posted up a large placard, containing the names, trades, and places of abode, of all those persons who voted for me. This was done to injure them in their business, by pointing them out to the malice and the vengeance of my opponents. But I will now publish a list for a very different purpose, to hand their names down to posterity, as follows:

Bristol. July 22, 1812. A LIST OF THE PERSONS WHO VOTED FOR MR. HUNT AT THE LATE ELECTION.

Those marked fr. are Freeholders, and voted as such.

Attwood John, cabinet-maker, Castle Precincts. Atkins George, tiler and plasterer, St. Mary, Redcliff. Allen William, shipwright, St. Mary Redcliff. Anderson George, gentleman, St. James (fr. St. James). Barnett S. A. carpenter, St. Philip and Jacob. Baker Thomas, cordwainer, St. Paul. Baker John, cordwainer, St. Paul. Baker Joseph, cordwainer, St. Paul. Brown Charles, sailcloth-maker, St. Philip. Burge Samuel, cooper, St. Paul. Bartlett Robert, cordwainer, St. Philip. Belcher Joseph, tailor, Castle Precincts. Bright Newman, brickmaker, St. Philip (out). Brown George, brightsmith, St. Philip. Brewer Richard, ironfounder, St. Philip, Ballard John, tobacco-pipe-maker, St. Philip. Broad William, freestone mason, St. Philip (fr. St. Paul). Bansill John, brazier, St. James. Buffory Mark, tyler and plasterer, St. Augustine. Brownjohn William, peruke-maker, Castle Precincts. Biddell John, printer, Temple. Bright William, cutler, St. Philip. Bennett Elisha, labourer, St. Philip. Briton William, house-carpenter, St. John. Bush Peter, turner, Kingswood. Bright William, brightsmith, St. Paul. Beale John, glasscutter, St. Mary Redcliff. Brookes Samuel, mason, Bitton, Gloucestershire. Bowles Peter, cordwainer, Temple. Blacker Henry, carpenter, St. Paul (fr. St. Paul.) Bennett Francis, brazier, Temple. Beckett Charles, cooper, St. Paul. Bower William, tailor, St. James. Clark W. N. carpenter, St. James (fr. St. James). Cardwell Thomas, gentleman, St. Philip (fr. St. Michael). Codrington John, corkcutter, St. Mary Redclif. Cole Joseph, butcher, St. James. Coles John, upholsterer, St. Paul. Cork John, victualler, St. Augustine. Coombs John, brightsmith, St. Philip. Coombs John, baker, St. James. Crew Solomon, coal-miner, Bitton, Gloucestershire. Cunningham B. B., cordwainer, St. Mary Redcliff. Coddington Richard, corkcutter, Bath. Clark John, toymaker, St. Philip. Dolman Charles, brightsmith, Christ Church. Duffett John, brushmaker, St. Philip. Daniel Samuel, barber-surgeon, St. Philip. Duffy Jonathan, labourer, St. Paul. Davis James, miller, St. George. Daniel Thomas, painter, St. James. Davis David, mason, St. Paul (fr. St. Paul). Davis William, victualler, Castle Precincts. Duffett Daniel, brushmaker, St. Philip. Docksey Thomas, peruke-maker, St. James. Ellis John, cordwainer, St. Philip. Edmonds Richards, barber-surgeon, St. James. Elliott Alexander, tailor, Temple (fr. Temple). Emers James, mason, St. Paul. Ellis James, brightsmith, St. James. Eagle William, tailor, St. Philip. Francis James, cooper, St. Michael. Foot John, cordwainer, St. Philip. Fudge George, mason, Temple (fr. St. Philip). Fenley John, bookseller, St. James (fr. St. James). Ferris John, tailor, Bath. Godwin John, wire-worker, St. Thomas. Griffin John, shipwright, St. Michael. Grimes John, silk-weaver, St. James. George John, stone-cutter, St. James. Green William, mariner, Bedminster. Hughes Benjamin, blacksmith, St. Philip. Hobbs James, mason. St. James. Hobbs William, mason, St. Philip. Haycock William, tailor, St. Philip. Harding John, gentleman, St. Paul (fr. St. Paul). Hewlins Moses, currier, St. Philip. Hopwood William, labourer, St. Philip. Hunt James, cordwainer, Temple. Hole James, shoemaker, St. Paul (fr. St. Paul). Hughes Joshua, cordwainer, St. Paul (fr. St. Michael) Hurst Joseph, mason, St. James. Hope John, labourer, St. Michael. Hardwick Robert, waterman, Hanham. Hone James, tailor, St. James. Haskins Samuel, plasterer, St. Michael (fr. St. Michael.) Hemmings James, maltster, Castle Precincts. Hunt William, hooper, Clifton. Autchinson, John, currier, Temple (fr. Temple). Jones Richard, joiner, St. John. James Thomas, brewer, St. James. Jewell William, smith, St. Mary Redcliff. Jeremiah Edmond, wheelwright, St. Paul (fr. St. Paul.) Jennings Benjamin, carpenter, St. Mary, Redcliff. James John, tailor, St. James (fr. St. James.) James Philip, pin-maker, St. George. Jennings James, tailor, St. Thomas. Jones Isaac, plumber, Temple. James John, shipwright, St. Augustine. Kennecott Nicholas, tobacco-pipe-maker, Bedminster. Knight William, labourer, St. James. Knight Joseph, broker, St. Thomas (fr. St. Thomas.) Lovett John, waterman, St. Philip. Liscombe Robert, carpenter and joiner, St. James (fr. St. James.) Lewis John, mason, St. James. Lansdown William, hooper, St. Philip. Lewis Matthew, mason, St. James. Leonard William, pork-butcher, St. James (fr. St. James.) Lewis Edward, plumber, Redeliff. Languell Thomas, mason, St. James. Lawful Francis, sawyer, St. Philip. Lancaster James, cordwainer, St. James. Lewis John, joiner, Bridgewater. Liddiard James, turner, Temple. Martin John, rope-maker, Temple. Morgan William, carpenter, Redcliff (fr. St. Mary, Redcliff.) Meredith James, confectioner, St. Stephen. Morgan William, glazier, St. Philip. Milton Francis, printer, St. James. Mittens Thomas, cabinet-maker, St. Paul. Mountain Abraham, blacksmith, St. Philip. Mutter Joshua, carpenter, St. Paul (fr. St. Paul.) Moore Joseph, crate-maker, St. Mary, Redcliffe. Mitchell James, sawyer, St. Paul. Melsom William, cheese-factor, St. James (fr. St. Paul.) Norris John, tobacconist, St. Peter. Oliver George, victualler, St. Mary, Redcliff (fr. St. Paul.) Owens Lewis, tailor and mercer, St. Michael. Owen Robert, tiler and plasterer, St. Paul (fr. St. Paul.) Pymm Thomas, currier, Christchurch. Phelps James, gardener, St Philip. Perry James, jun. Cooper, St. Peter. Parker William, yeoman, St. Paul. Primm Jacob, cordwainer, St. Michael. Prescott William, carpenter, St. Philip. Palmer William, hat-maker, St. Philip. Pymm William, tailor, Christchurch. Parfitt Thomas, cabinet-maker, St. Thomas. Perry Charles, labourer, Frenebay. Pearce Joseph, cordwainer, St. Paul, (fr. St. James.) Perrins John, potter, Temple. Parker James, carver and gilder, St. James. Phillips Samuel, glass-maker, St. Philip. Parker Edward, grocer, St. James (fr. St. James.) Philips Christopher, victualler, St. Nicholas. Prigg Francis, iron-founder, St. Philip. Poole William, tailor, St. Michael. Phillips William, plasterer, St. Phillip. Price William, tiler and plasterer, St. Philip (fr. St. Paul.) Pollard William, blacksmith, St. Nicholas. Penny Thomas, painter, Castle Precincts. Phillips Thomas, saddler, Bath. Perrin Robert, painter, St. Michael (fr. St. Michael.) Perrin William, jun. Cooper, St. Paul. Philips James, turner, St. James. Palmer William, brass-founder, Bedminster. Price James, shopkeeper, St. Paul (fr. St. Paul.) Roberts John, baker, St. Philip. Rate John, shoemaker, St. Paul. Rowland Thomas, carver, St. Stephen (fr. St. Stephen.) Rosser John, turner, St. James. Rogers Churchman, yeoman, St. James. Rumley Benjamin, labourer, Temple. Ravenhill Robert, bellows-maker, St. Philip. Rivers James, potter, Temple. Rees David, stationer, Christchurch (fr. St. Paul.) Rogers John, cooper, St. Mary, Redclif. Robins Charles, cabinet-maker, St. James. Reynolds John, wheelwright, Castle Precincts (fr. Castle Precincts.) Reed William, cordwainer, St. James. Radford Joseph, brass-founder, Temple. Rawle William, cordwainer, St. Philip. Stanmore Samuel, shipwright, Temple. Sexton, Daniel, trunk-maker, Temple. Sheppard John, brazier, Temple. Stinchcomb William, cabinet-maker, St. James. Simms Thomas, glass-cutter, Nailsea. Sheppard William, hatter, St. Philip. Stringer Thomas, confectioner, St. Philip (fr. St. Philip.) Sheppard Benjamin, clothier, Frome. Skone William, grocer, St. Paul. Smith John, pewterer, St. Michael. Slocombe John, glazier, St. James. Sayce Thomas, carpenter, St. Paul. Smith Thomas, shopkeeper, Temple. Stephens James, carpenter, St. Augustine. Stokes John, joiner, St. Paul. Stretton William, cooper, St. Nicholas. Sweet Thomas, potter, St. Philip. Stokes Henry, cordwainer, Chepstow (fr. Temple.) Simms William, glassman, Wraxall. Sims James, glass-maker, Nailsea. Skammell R. V. tiler and plasterer, St. James. Searle Benjamin, plasterer, St. Philip. Simpkins George, cordwainer, St. Paul. Smith William, ironmonger, St. Mary, Redcliff (fr. St. Mary, Redcliff.) Snig William, box-maker, St. James. Shackell Robert, cordwainer, Frampton (fr. St. James.) Thomas Timothy, tallow-chandler, St. Stephen (fr. St. Stephen.) Taylor James, brushmaker, St. Mary, Redcliff Thomas John, brushmaker, St. Mary, Redcliff Tilly John, block-maker, St. Stephen. Tippet James, shipwright, St. Augustine. Tilley William, crate-maker, Temple. Thomas Thomas, carpenter, St. Paul. Tiler William, gentleman, Bedminster (fr. St. James.) Taylor Thomas, glazier, St. Peter. Underaise James, merchant tailor, St. James. Vaughan John, gentleman, St. Paul (fr. Temple,) Walker Richard, accomptant, St. Michael (fr. St. Michael.) Westcott James, cabinet-maker, St. Michael (fr. St. Michael.) Wood William, twine-spinner, St. Philip. Whittington Thomas, carpenter and joiner, Temple. Williams Isaac, carpenter, Mangotsfield. Weetch Robert, undertaker, St. Paul (fr. St. Paul.) White John, mariner, Temple. Welsh John, butcher, St. Philip. Williams Robert, cordwainer, St. Augustine. Watts William, cordwainer, St. Paul. Watts Thomas, cordwainer, St. Philip. Wilmot W. W. glass-cutter, Temple. White William, carpenter, St. Paul. Wipperman Christopher, baker, St. Augustine (fr. St. Paul.) Wells Robert, wheelwright, Bath. Wilson William, Accomptant, St. Paul. Ware George, cordwainer, St. Paul (fr. St. Paul.) Webb George, carver and gilder, St. Michael. Woodland William, turner, St. Philip (fr. St. Philip.) Welch James, brickmaker, Binegar. Waters Benjamin, wine-hooper, St. Philip. Wood John, clerk, Newton St. Loe. Young George, cutler, St. Philip. Yearbury R. A. cordwainer, Frome.

I have recorded the names of these brave men, for the purpose of handing them down to posterity, as a specimen of genuine patriotism and disinterested love of Liberty. Men who, in the nineteenth century, regardless of every personal consideration, and anxious only to perform conscientiously what they considered to be a sacred duty to their country, had the courage and the honesty to give their votes agreeable to the dictates of their hearts, in spite of the terror and threats of lawless power; in defiance of the corrupt influence of the corporation, the clergy, and the merchants of Bristol, and all the bribes that were held out to seduce them from giving me their support. Men such as these deserve to be remembered with honour. I am bound to declare that, during the election, I witnessed as great a degree of enthusiasm as was ever exhibited by the people upon any occasion; and I beheld such daily individual acts of heroism as would have done honour to the character of the most revered Roman or Spartan patriot. My worthy friends Williams, Cranidge, Brownjohn, William Pimm, and many others, were incessant in their labours to assist me, and most cheerfully braved the anger and the ungovernable rage of our opponents. We had daily to encounter the most artful and unprincipled manoeuvres, which were put in practice to entrap and mislead us. There was no mean and despicable art, nothing which was likely to irritate and inflame, that was not tried, for the purpose of throwing me off my guard; and all those who chose to try these experiments upon my patience and my temper, let them commit any atrocity however glaring, were sure to be shielded by the authorities. There was no law, no protection for me or my friends; and we had only to rely upon the goodness of our cause, our general forbearance, or our prompt and courageous resistance to lawless violence. One day, towards the latter end of the contest, a person introduced himself into my room (for any one who asked was instantly admitted), and, after behaving in a very improper manner, he placed himself in a boxing attitude, and commanded me to defend myself, or he should floor me. I had no inclination to have a set-to with a perfect stranger, and was about to request his immediate departure, when he struck me a smart blow upon the chin, and then affected to apologise for the insult, or rather assault, by saying, that it arose entirely from the want of my keeping a proper guard. I, however, instantly spoiled his harangue, by retaliating in a way that he little expected: I seized the gentleman, and, having sprung with him out of the door, I gave him, in spite of the most determined resistance, a cross-buttock, and pitched him a neat somerset over the banisters, into the landing-place of the ground-floor, before my friend Davenport had scarcely left his seat. This being witnessed by some of my friends, who were standing at the bottom of the stairs, and saw the fellow come flying over the banisters, with part of my coat in his hand, which he had seized hold of, and held fast in the struggle; they, without farther ceremony, began "to serve him out" in proper stile, as he was immediately recognized to be a sheriff's officer, and a notorious bruiser, belonging to the White Lion faction; and if Mr. Davenport had not rushed to his assistance, and secured him by consigning him to the custody of two constables, he would have paid very dearly for his insolent frolic; and, as it was, he came off very roughly, with several bruises and a dislocated shoulder.

I had given my word to my friends, that on the day after the chairing of Mr. Davis, I would return from Bath, and dine with them. I kept my word, and I was met at Totterdown, about a mile from the entrance of the city, and conducted through the streets in the most triumphant manner. I was taken to the Exchange, where I protested against the illegal manner in which the election had been carried by the lawless introduction of the military force, and I pledged myself to petition Parliament against the return of Mr. Davis; this pledge was received with every demonstration of applause, and promises of pecuniary support were reiterated from every quarter. I dined with a very large party of my friends, and thus ended a contest as severe as ever was maintained at any election upon record.

From this contest there resulted one benefit, which amply paid me for my toils. During fifteen days, the people of Bristol had an opportunity of hearing more bold political truths, than they had ever heard before; both the factions of Whigs and Tories were exposed, and their united and unprincipled efforts to deceive and cajole the people were freely canvassed, and rendered incontrovertible.—There had always been in Bristol two factions, nearly equally divided between the Whigs and Tories; and the whole of the politics of the people consisted in supporting these two factions, which were designated the high and the low party. The opposition, or Whigs, had always contrived to make the people believe that they were their friends, and that the Government, or Tory faction, were their enemies; that the Whigs were every thing that was pure and honourable, and disinterested and patriotic; but that the Tories, or Blues, were every thing that is the reverse. During these fifteen days, this delusion was dispelled, and the actions of the Whigs were as rigidly discussed as those of the other faction; in fact, more so, for the people all well understood the practice as well as the principles of the Tories, but they had not till now been enlightened upon the subject of the Whigs, so as plainly to see and understand their situation. The task of enlightening them on this head, I made it my business to accomplish, and, aided by the Whigs themselves, I did accomplish it effectually. At the appearance of such an antagonist as I was, all the leading Whigs, united with those whom they had heretofore made the people believe to be their greatest enemies, their chiefs of the low party, now left that party, and joined the high party, though hitherto it had been the constant study and care of both these factions, to make the people give credit to the sincerity and purity of the opposition. To banish this delusion was my grand object, in which I flatter myself, that I succeeded to a miracle. I not only recounted the famous acts of the Whig administration, and dilated upon the sinecures, pensions, and places of profit, that the Whigs enjoyed out of the earnings of the people; but I also caused the list of them to be published and placarded. There were the sinecures of Lord Grenville and his family, the Marquis of Buckingham and others, placed side by side with those of Lord Arden and the Marquis Camden; Whigs and Tories were blended together; and when this light was thrown upon the business, the people soon saw through the mist of faction, by which they had been kept in utter darkness. This mode of proceeding, of course, drew down upon me the maledictions of both factions; nor was this all, for they joined heartily in misrepresenting me, and fabricating every species of calumny against me. There was no falsehood too gross to serve their turn. They seem to have acted on the old rascally maxim, of throwing as much dirt as possible, in the presumption that some of it will stick. Perhaps, since the invention of printing, no man had ever been so grossly attacked and belied as I was, by the whole of the public press; with the exception of Mr. Cobbett, who stood manfully by me. I do not know a single public newspaper in the kingdom that did not vilify me, and labour in all ways to sully my character, and to depreciate my exertions. The liberal and enlightened editor of the Examiner, took the lead in making these attacks upon me, and professed to be desperately alarmed, lest the public should imagine that he was the vulgar candidate for Bristol, of the name of Hunt. He not only disclaimed all connection with me, or even knowledge of me, but he professed to lament, as a misfortune, that his name was "Hunt." This being the subject of conversation one night, when Sir Francis Burdett and some other friends were spending the evening with Mr. Cobbett, in Newgate; the Baronet, speaking of this foul abuse from Mr. Leigh Hunt, said "that the editor of the Examiner was not worthy to wipe the shoes of his friend Hunt." This was what I was afterwards told by those who were present. Nothing, indeed, could be more unfair than the conduct of Mr. Leigh Hunt upon this occasion, because he was not writing from his own knowledge, nor from the knowledge of any one that he could rely upon; but all his information must have been derived from the venal press; and to be sure, I was bespattered and misrepresented as much by the opposition press, as I was by that of the ministerial hacks. I freely forgive Mr. Hunt, however, as I have no doubt that he was imposed upon, in fact, he has long, long since, honourably done me ample justice, and made amends for his former attacks and mis-statements.

After the election was over, I returned by the way of Botley, in Hampshire, on purpose to pay a visit to my friend Cobbett, who had just been liberated from Newgate, after having been imprisoned there for two years, if it might be called imprisonment, though I can scarcely call it imprisonment, when compared to my incarceration in this infamous bastile. I do not hesitate to say, that one month's imprisonment in this gaol, is a greater punishment than one year's imprisonment in Newgate; and that I have suffered many more privations during the FORTY DAYS Of my solitary confinement here, than Mr. Cobbett suffered during the whole of the two years that he was in Newgate. As I have before said, his sentence was not much more than living two years in London in lodgings. To be sure, he paid dear for that accommodation, but actually little more than he would have paid for ready furnished lodgings, of equal goodness, in any other part of London. He would have paid just as much for good lodgings upon Ludgate-Hill; and his lodgings in Mr. Newman's house were equal, if not superior, to any on Ludgate-Hill. All his friends had free access to him, from eight o'clock in the morning till ten at night, and his family remained with him night and day. As I visited him a great deal, I know how well he was at all times accommodated. When I knocked at Mr. Newman's door, and asked for Mr. Cobbett, I was received with attention by the servant, and introduced immediately; in fact, the reception given by Mr. Newman's servants to Mr. Cobbett's visitors, was much more respectful, and more attentive and accommodating, than they ever experienced from the servants of Mr. Cobbett at his own house; at least it always struck me so, as my friend Cobbett's servants were not always the best mannered in the world, I mean his domestic servants, those who were not under his management altogether, but under the direction and management of the female part of his family. In truth, I do not remember ever going to Mr. Cobbett's house twice following, without seeing new faces, or rather new maid servants. Mrs. Cobbett was, what was called amongst the gossips, very unfortunate in getting maid servants; they seldom suited long together. But not so with Mr. Cobbett; it was quite the reverse with him: his servants about his farms always lived as long with him as they conducted themselves with propriety; he was, indeed, what is called very lucky the choice of his servants. For years and years, and years together, when I went to visit him, I found the same faces, the same well-known names. The same tenant occupied the same cottage; the same carter drove the same team; the same ploughman held the same plough; the same thrasher occupied the same barn; and the same shepherd attended the flock. The names of Dean, Jurd, Coward, and Hurcot, and many others, were for a number of years, as familiar to me as the names of my own servants. The editors of the venal hireling press, and the enemies of Mr. Cobbett's political writings, have always represented him as a bad master, and as being capricious, cruel, and tyrannical amongst his servants and poorer neighbours; and by means of as foul a conspiracy against him as ever disgraced the age in which we live, or as ever disgraced the courts of justice in any country. The calumny about Jesse Burgess was propagated from one end of the land to the other, by the whole venal press of the kingdom, sanctioned by the dastardly conduct of the hireling barristers of the day, particularly by the infamous conduct of Mr. Counsellor, now Judge Burrough. The whole of this was a base, fraudulent, and infamous transaction. Mr. Cobbett has behaved very ill to me ever since his return from America; his desertion of me at a time of danger and difficulty, and his neglecting to aid me with his pen, in the herculean task which I have had to perform in this bastile, must to every liberal mind appear unpardonable. Such a struggle, and made by a prisoner under such circumstances too, to detect, expose, and punish fraud, cruelty, tyranny, and lust, perpetrated within the walls of an English gaol, surely deserved the assistance of every enemy of oppression.—Mr. Cobbett having failed to render me the slightest assistance, and by his silence having even done every thing that lay in his power to counteract my exertions, and to encourage my cowardly and vindictive enemies to destroy me, it will not be imagined that I shall write with any degree of undue partiality towards him, or that I can be prejudiced so much in his favour as to exceed the bounds of truth. But I have a duty to perform to myself, and a duty to perform to the public, and no feeling of personal irritation on my part, arising from neglect on his, shall induce me to withhold the truth. I most unequivocally and most solemnly declare, from my own personal knowledge, that Mr. Cobbett was one of the kindest, the best, and the most considerate masters, that I ever knew in my life. His servants were indeed obliged to work for their wages, as it was their duty to do; but they always had an example of industry and sobriety set them by their master; they were always treated with the greatest kindness by him; they were well paid and well treated in every respect; and the best proof, if any were wanting, after what I have said, that they were well satisfied with their employer, is, that they all lived with him for very long periods, and that those who left his service did so not in consequence of any dislike to their MASTER, and were always anxious to return to him.

While on the subject of servants, I may be allowed to say a word respecting myself: I was never accused, even by the venal hirelings of the press, of being a bad master; but, on the contrary, I was always proverbial for being a good one. The fact that I was so, is abundantly proved by one circumstance. When I left my farm in Wiltshire, and went to reside at Rowfant, in Sussex, my old servants followed me there, a distance of nearly one hundred miles, so that in Sussex I had the same servants, the whole time I remained there, that had lived with me and my father for, from ten to thirty years before; they all followed me into Sussex at their own risk, and they remained with me as long as I lived in that county; and when I left it to go into Hampshire, they also all left it, and accompanied me. This is the best evidence that can be given of my being a good master; yet I have no hesitation in saying, that there never was a better master living than Mr. Cobbett. I was, however, more fortunate than he was in my domestic servants; for in twenty years I have only had three cooks, three housemaids, and three men servants, each of them having lived seven years, and none of them having left us till they married and settled; and, thank God, it is a great satisfaction they have all done well, improved their situation in life, and got up in the world. The man servant and two maid servants, whom I have now remaining with me, to take care of my cottage, have lived with me, I think it is now nearly eight years.

During the whole time that Mr. Cobbett was in Newgate, I was in the constant habit of visiting him; there was never a month, and seldom a fortnight passed, that I did not go to London to see him. Up to this period I had always received from Mrs. Cobbett the greatest civility and attention, in return for my attention to her husband. I was never an evening in London but I passed it with my friend who was in prison, and very delightful and rational parties we used to have in Mr. Cobbett's apartments; these parties consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Cobbett, Sir Francis Burdett, Col. Wardle, Major Cartwright, Major Worthington, Mr. Peter Walker, Mr. Samuel Millar, and a few other select friends, all staunch assertors of the cause of Liberty. I will relate two circumstances which occurred at these meetings, because I have always considered them to have had a very important share in creating the political hostility that has since existed between Sir F. Burdett and myself, and to have ultimately led to that coolness which has been so visible in the conduct of Mr. Cobbett towards me, during the last two years. There is no breach of confidence in my mentioning them, and the narrative will shew by what trifles important results may be produced. One evening, Sir Francis and Mr. Cobbett were speaking in very warm terms of my exertions in procuring a Requisition which led to the first County Meeting held at Wells, in Somersetshire; and the former was giving me great credit for having roused such a large, long, dormant county, and for having made such a favourable impression upon the Free-holders, in the cause of Reform. With the intention of putting an end to such overwhelming praise bestowed on me to my face, I replied, that I was a zealous and devoted political disciple of the Baronet, that I would continue to follow his praiseworthy example, and never would desert the cause in which we were embarked. "But," said I, "remember, Sir Francis, that at the same time that I promise you never to withdraw my zealous and faithful support to those principles which you advocate, and of the partizans of which principles you are deservedly the leader; yet, if ever you should stand still, so far from promising you, that I also shall halt, I assure you that nothing shall deter me from proceeding; then, and only then, shall I leave you." What induced me to utter this speech, I cannot tell; I certainly had not the slightest opinion or suspicion that the Baronet would ever stand still. It was the farthest thing in the world from my intention to say any thing to create surmises, or to give the slightest offence. My words were merely a sort of involuntary, random-shot effusion of the heart, meant only to evince my sincerity, and to silence the praises which were bestowed upon me to my face. It certainly had the latter effect; it immediately put a stop to the conversation altogether. I saw that I had unintentionally committed a blunder; I saw, or thought that I saw, Mr. Cobbett look at me with a most inquiring eye, endeavouring to discover whether my words were meant to convey an impression that I really suspected that the Baronet would ever stand still. God is my witness, I had not at the time the slightest idea of the sort; for Sir Francis Burdett, in his professions and conversation, if not in his actions, always appeared to desire for the people the full extent of that liberty for which I was contending, namely, the representation of the whole of them in the House of Commons. Sir Francis Burdett drew up instantly, and I perceived that I had, without meaning it, cast a damp upon the cheerfulness that had previously prevailed. There was, however, no room for explanation. I looked grave myself, and my mind was occupied with such thoughts as had never obtruded themselves before; not created by what I had said, but by the impression which it appeared to have made upon my hearers. Whether it was imagination, or whether there was any just ground for it, I do not know, but I always fancied, from that time forward, that the Baronet was not so familiar as he was before; and, although we continued upon the best of terms, that he manifested a degree of reserve that I had never previously observed.

The other blunder which I made was as follows:—one evening, when there was a large party, and Mr. Cobbett had been keeping us in a roar of laughter by his wit and vivacity, the very life and soul of the company, which he always was when he chose, all at once, in the midst of our mirth, he exclaimed, addressing himself to me, "Hunt, I have a particular favour to ask of you; will you promise to grant it me?" This was said with great earnestness, and with peculiar emphasis. I replied, "if it is any thing in reason and within my power, I will; but let me know what it is, and I have no doubt that I shall gratify your wish." He urged me again and again to promise him before-hand—all eyes were fixed upon me, and Mrs. Cobbett appeared by her looks to desire that I should comply with her husband's request, evidently indeed shewing that she anticipated what it was he wished me to promise him. This earnestness made me press him to explain, and at the same time I repeated my assurance that I would comply with his wish, if within my power. I own I expected that he was about to get me to promise him, in the presence of our mutual friends, that I would accomplish something of importance; as he knew if I once gave my word, that nothing would deter me from endeavouring to carry my promise into effect. Expectation was upon the tiptoe, every one seeming anxious to know what was the object of such a serious and almost solemn request. "Well," said he, "promise me then that you will never wear white breeches again!" Every one appeared thunder-struck, that the mountain had brought forth such a mouse. I had on a clean pair of white cord breeches, and a neat pair of top boots, a fashionable, and a favourite dress of mine at that time. There was a general laugh, and as soon as this subsided, all were curious to hear my answer. It was briefly this: "I certainly will, upon one condition." "What is that?"—"Why, that you will promise me never to wear dirty breeches again." Cobbett at the time had on a remarkably dirty pair of old drab kerseymere breeches. The laugh was now turned against my friend, and I instantly felt sorry for the repartee. I saw that my friend was hurt. He thought it unkind, and dropped his under lip. Mrs. Cobbett's eyes flashed the fire of indignation, and she was never civil to one afterwards. Nothing could be farther from my intention than to hurt the feelings of my friend; it was an ill-natured and thoughtless, although a just retaliation. At all events I was very sorry for it, and it called to my recollection an old saying, which was very commonly used by my father, "a fool's bolt is soon shot."

In consequence of Mr. Cobbett having given me the support of his able pen previous to the Bristol election, every exertion was made to induce him not to write upon that occasion in my favour. On the day that I was going down to Bristol, I was sitting with Mr. Cobbett, in his room in Mr. Newman's house, in Newgate, and consulting with him about the best plan of operation, when a gentleman was introduced; he was a stranger to me, and Mr. Cobbett rose hastily, and said, "walk this way, my Lord," and instantly took him into the next room. After having remained with him some time, and then sent him down the back stairs. He returned to me, laughing, and informed me that it was Lord F——c, who had been endeavouring to prevail upon him not to support me for Bristol, but to give his aid to Sir Samuel Romilly. The reader will, however, have seen by the letter, and the observations published in my last two numbers, selected from Mr. Cobbett's Register at that period, how little weight those attempts to injure me in his opinion had upon him. But my enemies took a more effectual course to injure me with Mr. Cobbett, by whispering calumny to those who were more ready to listen to it than he was; they assailed Mrs. Cobbett, and endeavoured to injure me in the estimation of my friend, by poisoning the ear of his wife. I may, perhaps, relate a few instances of this sort hereafter. But there was one act of baseness that ought to be, and shall be recorded, to enable the world to form a proper judgment of the villain who could be guilty of it. It occurred at the latter end of the year 1811 or at the beginning of the year 1812, at the time when there was such a desperate attempt made to impose upon the public, by endeavouring to persuade them that a one pound note and a shilling, were equivalent to a guinea, although the latter was selling in the market at the time for twenty-seven shillings.

As I have alluded to the paper system, I may as well, before I proceed to my promised story, mention one circumstance connected with it. To expose that system was always a favourite scheme with Mr. Cobbett, and he was now anxious to try the question with a country banker, to shew that, notwithstanding the Bank of England was protected against paying in specie, yet the country banks were liable to pay in gold. If you carried 50_l_. to the Bank of England of their notes, scribbled over with the lying formula "I promise to pay," instead of giving cash for them, they only give you other paper of "I promise to pay," in exchange. If you carried 50_l_. of country notes to the bank which had issued them, instead of giving you cash, they gave you Bank of England notes in exchange. Mr. Cobbett very much wished to have this question tried, and, at his request, I promised him that the first time I went into the country I would do it. Being at Bath soon afterwards, and having received, in payment of rent, some of Sir Benjamin Hobhouse's bank notes, I took my tenant with me to the Bank, and tendered twenty-six pounds worth of their notes, for which I demanded cash in payment. They refused to give it, and tendered in return twenty-six pounds in Bank of England paper. This I declined to receive, and persisted in my demand for cash. One of the partners was called; and, upon my peremptorily demanding payment in coin, he as peremptorily refused to pay it, and once more offered me Bank of England paper. This I again declined to take, assuring him, that if he did not pay me the amount in cash, I would bring an action against him for the debt, and compel him to do so. This then he treated with great levity, and I left his shop and the twenty-six pounds of bank notes together. I immediately went to an attorney in Bath, and instructed him to bring an action against the firm of Hobhouse and Co. for a debt of twenty-six pounds, to which I offered to make an affidavit. When I explained the circumstance, the Bath attorney declared that he would not act. I then applied to my own attorney in London, who politely declined the honour of conducting such a suit, as he very honestly said, that if he did conduct it, he must never expect to have another bill discounted, or any accommodation from one of these formidable country bankers. At length, after some difficulty, Mr. Cobbett procured me an attorney in London, who commenced an action against the firm of Hobhouse and Co.

I will now proceed to my story, which is, indeed, connected in some degree with what I have just related. While I was in the country, at Glastonbury, I let several little odd lots of land by auction, specifying that those who might become tenants should find security for payment of the rent. Mr. John Haine, a perfect stranger to me, took the manor-house, orchard, and the fishery within the manor, for thirty-six pounds a-year, for three years. The next morning, when he came to sign and complete his contract, I told him, that, as he was a stranger to me, and as I had great trouble in collecting my rents, I must require him to give security for the payment of the rent. Mr. Haine, who was a man of considerable property, felt very indignant at this proposition, and certainly expressed his indignation in no very equivocal terms. In the course of some rather warm conversation, I told him, that I should expect he would pay the rent in cash, if he were called upon to do so. He contended that I could not compel him to do that; however, to shew me that he was a man of property, and to get rid of all difficulty about finding security for the payment of the rent, he pulled out of his pocket several hundred pounds in bank notes, and offered to pay me down the three years' rent, amounting to one hundred and eight pounds, which money he tendered to me upon the table, saying, that it was no difference to him, and that it would at once save trouble and the expense of drawing up any agreement or lease, as I should have nothing to do but to give him a receipt. At first I declined to do this, but a person who was with me suggested, that, if I allowed Mr. Haine five per cent. for the money, nothing could be more equitable on both sides. This was at once assented to; I threw my tenant back five per cent. and gave him a receipt for the three years' rent; we had, therefore, no occasion for any settlement till the three years were expired, when we renewed the agreement, and never had a word of dispute as to the rent afterward.

This, however, led to the following misrepresentation, by one of those persons who had been very pressing to induce Mr. Cobbett not to write in my favour on my becoming a candidate for Bristol, but to support the cause of Sir Samuel Romilly. This man, one William Adams, a currier, of Drury Lane, one of the pillars of the Westminster Rump, had frequently been traducing me to Mr. Cobbett, who always dared him to the proof of any of the calumnies that he urged against me; and, in order to get rid of the fellow's impudent and malignant representations, told him plainly, that he should not be prejudiced against me without proof. "But," added he, "Adams, I promise you, that if you will bring me proof that Mr. Hunt has ever been guilty of a dishonest or dishonourable act, I will give him up instantly, and will have no more to do with him: but, till you do this, I beg you will refrain from all your little tittle-tattle about his wife, of whom you appear to know nothing."

Adams took his departure, but called again some time after, saying, that he had been to Bristol fair, and he now could substantiate, upon unquestionable authority, that I had been guilty of a most flagrant act of dishonesty to all my tenants at Glastonbury. "Well," said Cobbett, "let us hear what it is." Adams proceeded as follows:—"Mr. Hunt went down to Glastonbury, and under a threat of compelling all his tenants to pay their rent in specie, he induced them to advance him three years' rent, for which he gave them receipts. But, no sooner had they paid him their rent, than the mortgagee came, and made them all pay it over again, so that all his tenants were paying double rents." "Well," said Cobbett, "if this be true, it is a very dishonourable act; but, as I have ascertained that the last story you told me, about his having turned his wife out of doors to starve, without making her any allowance, is a fiction, or, to speak plainly, I have ascertained it to be a most scandalous and wicked falsehood, you must excuse me if I do not believe one word of this affair, about his tenants, till you bring me some better proof than your bare assertion." At length, Adams confessed that he was only told so by a person with whom he met at Bristol fair. The fact was, that Mr. Haine had related the circumstance at Bristol amongst his friends, just as it happened; Adams heard of it, and out of such slender materials, he manufactured as base and as unfounded a lie as ever defiled the lips of an inhabitant of Drury-Lane or St. Giles's. Mr. Cobbett saw at once through the villainy of this Mr. Currier Adams, and he always afterwards treated him; as he deserved, with merited contempt. This Adams is the person who, in the Court of King's Bench, upon the trial of "Wright versus Cobbett," for a libel, (if Wright's and the other reports are true,) swore that he had several times assisted in turning Hunt out of the room at public meetings. This is a most bare-faced falsehood as ever was stated in a court of justice; and Mr. Cobbett, who knew that it was false, should have indicted the fellow for perjury. No human being ever laid hands upon me in the whole course of my life, to turn me out of a room, either public or private, with the exception of the ruffians who endeavoured to drive me and my friends out of the theatre at Manchester, in the year 1818. The very idea of Mr. Currier Adams ever attempting to do any such thing, is absolutely ludicrous. If the ruffian had said that he had often been hired to assail me at the Crown and Anchor meetings, for the purpose of preventing the truths that I delivered being heard there, he might have told the truth; but to swear that he or any of his gang had ever dared to lay hands on me, either at a public or a private meeting, is as arrant a falsehood as ever was uttered at the Old Bailey.

As I observed before, when the election was over at Bristol I returned to Rowfant, in Sussex, by the way of Botley, in Hampshire, to congratulate my friend upon his release from Newgate, and to talk over the election at Bristol. When I arrived there with my friend Davenport, Mr. Cobbett received us with that hearty welcome which he was accustomed to give; but the other part of the family behaved in the most rude, unhandsome, and disgusting manner, both to Mr. Davenport and myself. I shall not descend to particulars; but I am sure my friend Davenport will never forget it, as long as he lives. There is, however, no accounting for the conduct of some women. Mr. Cobbett was always, as far as I was capable of seeing, a kind and indulgent husband, as well as a most fond father, and this he carried even to a fault; and it now appeared very evident that he began to feel his error. But perhaps Socrates would never have proved himself so great a philosopher, if he had not been blessed with the little ripplings of Xantippe.

I returned to Rowfant, where every thing had gone on pretty well in my absence, under the care of my brother and my old Wiltshire servants. The hay was all made, and the harvest was near at hand. I soon recovered from the excessive exertion which I had undergone at Bristol, an exertion, such as few men ever overcome, and in consequence of which, my family always said, I was seven years older. It is a fact, that my hair turned grey during the three weeks that I was at Bristol, and I have no doubt but it was occasioned by excessive mental and corporeal efforts. On our arrival at Rowfant we found the infamous letter, which was written from Bristol to my family, giving a detailed and sanctimonious account of my death. I have met with a great number of base scoundrels during my political life, but it was reserved for the gentlemen of Bristol to find among them a monster in human form, capable of committing so detestable and cowardly an act as that. The people of Bristol are proverbial for their bravery; witness the Belchers, Pierce, Neate, &c. but what is called the gentry of Bristol, with a very few exceptions, are the most mean, dastardly, selfish, and cowardly of their species. Burke's definition of a Bristol merchant is truly characteristic. "He has no church but the Exchange; no Bible but his ledger; and no God but his gold!!!" Burke stood a contested election for Bristol, and represented that city many years in Parliament, and he well knew the character of the dominant classes. I believe that this race of Bristolians are greatly degenerated since Burke's time. The people, the populace, are brave, generous, and humane; but the merchants and gentry, as they are called, are the most selfish, the most corrupt, the most vulgar, the most ignorant, the most illiberal, and the most time-serving race that are to be found in Europe. It is said that a Bristol man is known all over the world for his underhanded, tricking, overreaching, sharper-like dealing; he is described to be exactly the reverse of a Liverpool merchant; and it is added, (and the sarcasm is not too bitter) that you may know a Bristol merchant, by his always sleeping with one eye open. There are, of course, some very honourable exceptions, though I am compelled to say, that I met with very few instances of liberality, Christian charity, or even common honesty amongst them, while I was there. The Corporation is the richest in the world, perhaps, except London; while the freemen, whose property goes to enrich the said Corporation, are the very poorest freemen in the world. Queen Anne granted a charter to the city, by which the daughters of a freeman confer upon their husbands the right of voting at an election. Tradition says, that the Queen, when at Bristol, took notice that the women were so remarkably plain, that she conferred this boon upon them as a sort of dower; so that whoever marries the daughter of a freeman, is himself immediately entitled to the freedom of the city. So that the freedom of Bristol may be gained by birth, by marriage, or by servitude. While, however, I relate this circumstance, I do not mean to concur in the assertion, that the women of Bristol are proverbially ugly; on the contrary, some of them are very pretty; and I recollect that, when I was a young man, Bristol justly boasted of having given birth to one of the handsomest women of the age. Miss Clementina Atwood, who was a native of Bristol, was, at the period when I knew her, universally esteemed, and in my estimation was the most beautiful, elegant, and accomplished female in the British dominions. I remember riding from Enford to Bristol and back again, a distance of ninety-two miles, on the same day, only for the chance of passing a few hours in her society; and the worst of it was, that I was disappointed at last, as she had left Bristol for a few days, with her friend Miss Rigg, whose mother was just deceased. But I passed the day with her cousins, and returned home in the evening.

I now directed my attention towards the management of my farm, with as much zeal as I had recently directed it to the concerns of the election. My natural disposition, my taste, and my habits, all led me to the enjoyment of domestic comforts, in a rural sphere. I was always doatingly fond of the country, country pursuits, and a country life. The sports of the field—hunting, shooting, &c., to me afforded the most captivating delight. The pleasures of cultivating the soil, and attending to the growth and progress of the crops, can only be known to, and can only be estimated by, one who has a perfect knowledge of agricultural pursuits. Then, the domestic felicity enjoyed in a quiet, cheerful country house, surrounded by one's own family, and every now and then a good neighbour and sincere friend dropping in, has always been to me that sort of exquisite enjoyment which I could never find in any other situation, or in any other occupation. My natural taste is so domestic, that I should not wish, on my own account, ever to mingle in the busy haunts of man. I could freely remain in the country, and never enter a city or a town again. Nothing but a sense of public duty should ever induce me to sacrifice myself by residing in a town; and if I could once see my country free, and the people happy, and honestly represented, the greatest blessing I could wish for, would be, to pass uninterrupted, a tranquil old age in the country, far away from the harassing turmoil, danger, and misery of boisterous, unprofitable politics. But the man who would immolate the interest, the honour, the freedom, and the happiness of his country, to gratify his own love of ease and comfort, is unworthy the name of patriot. I can scarcely hope to be permitted to enjoy such unmixed bliss, such delightful tranquillity, during the remainder of that short race which I have to run in this sublunary world; neither shall I sigh and pine after that, which it appears fate has forbidden.

In the early part of this year 1812, there had been great riots in the North; great mischief was done at and near Nottingham, by the Luddites destroying knitting frames. On the 9th of January, a number of those Luddites were taken up at Nottingham, for breaking frames, and they showed a spirit of resistance, and had several skirmishes with the military. On the 16th of March, the Spanish constitution was settled by the Cortes, which Cortes abolished the Inquisition in Spain, on the 20th of June. On the 9th of May, Napoleon left Paris for Poland, and entered upon that fatal campaign which ended in his ruin. The Senate met in Paris, and decreed extraordinary levies of soldiers, and an immense army was formed, to attempt the subjugation of Russia. Both Prussia and Austria had now signed treaties of alliance with France. A negotiation was entered into between France and Russia, but without success; and the latter power concluded treaties with England and Sweden. Having passed the Vistula, Napoleon declared war against Russia on the 22nd of June. The French then advanced, and entered Wilna on the 28th of June; upon which the Russians formed a plan of a gradual retreat, and the invaders pursued them towards the Russian frontiers. Many partial actions took place, and on the 17th of August, the Moscovites sustained a severe defeat at Smolensko, which city they set on fire before it was entered by the French. A second battle was fought at Viasma; but that at Borodino, on the 7th of September, was most decisive in favour of the French; when the Russians, having been completely routed, left open the road to Moscow, into which city Buonaparte entered on the 14th; Rostophin, the Russian Governor, having taken the dreadful resolution to have it set on fire in various quarters, previous to the entry of the French army. He accomplished his purpose by means of criminals, whom he employed under the promise of having their lives saved. It is said, that 30,000 Russians were burnt in this city, whose wounds rendered them incapable of escaping from this terrible conflagration. Half the city was destroyed before Napoleon and his troops entered, and the work of ruin was nearly completed before a stop could be put to the flames. Napoleon ordered the execution of all those that were detected in spreading and increasing the fire. This city being mostly built of wood, nothing could equal the dreadful ravages which the flames committed.

Calculating too confidently upon the character of the Emperor Alexander alone, which he knew well to be timid and indecisive, and anticipating that the moment he approached his capital, the Russian sovereign would sue for peace, in which case the French troops might take up their winter quarters in Moscow with perfect safety, Napoleon had pushed on to Moscow so late as the 14th of September, the time when a Russian winter was already approaching. In thus calculating upon the fears of his enemy, Napoleon was perfectly correct, and it was well known that Alexander would come himself, with open arms, as he had before done, to ask for terms of peace from Napoleon, the moment after the decisive battle of Brorodino, if he had not been prevented by his nobles. It was by his not taking the nobles into the account that the French Emperor failed in his calculations. It is confidently said, and I can readily believe the fact, that Alexander was threatened with sharing a similar fate to that which was inflicted upon his Father Paul, if he offered to make any terms with Napoleon; these nobles having determined to burn riot only Moscow, but, if necessary, Petersburgh itself, and three-fourths of the inhabitants, in order to harass and destroy the French army by the frost, as they well knew that they could not conquer it by arms.

I will now leave Napoleon amidst the ruins of Moscow, and return to what was passing in the southern parts of Europe; and if I dwell a considerable time on the events of this year, my readers must recollect that it was the most interesting period in the history of the world, and that more important events occurred in this year than in any other that I have recorded.

In England, the manufacturing population began to suffer the greatest distresses, and consequently rioting and Ludditism were the order of the day. Great and destructive riots occurred at Macclesfield, Manchester, Leeds, Sheffield, Nottingham, and various towns in the North: the people were ignorant of the cause of their distresses, and they wreaked their vengeance upon the knitting frames, machinery in general, and destroyed the property of their employers. These excesses they were, no doubt, led to in consequence of the delusions and deception practised upon them by the venal hirelings of the public press, under the influence and controul of the Government. Every particle of the real liberty of the press was nearly destroyed; almost every liberal writer in the kingdom had been prosecuted by the ex-officio informations of the vindictive and remorseless tyrant, Sir Vicary Gibbs, the Attorney-General, encouraged by the equally cruel and remorseless Chancellor of the Exchequer, Spencer Perceval. Mr. Cobbett, Messrs. Hunts, of the Examiner, Mr. Drakard, of the Stamford News, Mr. Peter Finnerty, and other literary characters, were incarcerated in the dungeons of the borough-mongers. Under this system eight persons were executed at Manchester for rioting, and many others suffered death in various parts of the country.

While Napoleon in person had been successful in every battle that he fought, and had penetrated even to the Russian capital, his Generals in the south had been much less successful, probably in consequence of the main energies of the empire being directed to the great object of subduing the powerful Autocrat. The French armies in Spain sustained several signal defeats. Ballasteros defeated the French, and the grand combined army, under Wellington, stormed Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajos. This army also took Salamanca on the 16th of June. On the 1st of July it was ascertained that the number of prisoners of war in England was 54,517. Another battle was fought at Salamanca, on the 23d of July, when the French were again defeated by Wellington's army. On the 11th of August, Lord Wellington entered Madrid, and on the following day the French evacuated Bilboa. On the 19th of August, Soult abandoned the siege of Cadiz, and on the 27th Seville was taken by the combined army of English and Spaniards. It is necessary to record the fact, that during the whole of the war in Spain, whenever the French obtained possession of a place, the inquisition was abolished; whenever the English got possession, the inquisition was restored with all its terrors, until at length the Cortes formally caused it to be abolished, in the latter end of June, in this year. While these things were going on abroad, an event occurred at home that caused a great political sensation throughout the whole kingdom. On the 11th of May, Mr. Spencer Perceval, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, was shot in the lobby of the House of Commons, by Mr. John Bellingham. It is an extraordinary coincidence, that Mr. Perceval should thus come by his death, at the threshold of the House of Commons, on the anniversary of the ever-memorable day on which Mr. Maddocks made his motion, in the House of Commons, charging him and Lord Castlereagh with having been concerned in trafficking for the seat of Mr. Quintin Dick, in Parliament, into the grounds of which motion the Honourable House refused to inquire. Bellingham never attempted to make his escape, which he might easily have done in the confusion which the event created. After the consternation had a little subsided, some one present, who had been brought out of the House by the report of the pistol, inquired who was the murderer? Bellingham replied, "I am the man that killed Mr. Perceval;" upon which he was seized and searched, and another pistol loaded was found in his pocket. He was then taken into the House of Commons, and being examined, he admitted the fact, adding, "I have been denied the redress of my grievances by Government; I have been ill-treated, I sought redress in vain, and I feel sufficient justification for what I have done." The fact was, that Mr. Bellingham was a merchant of Liverpool, and had, while in Russia, been wrongfully accused and thrown into prison by the Governor-General. He applied to the English Consul, Lord Leveson Gower, for redress, but his application was fruitless. He had suffered great pecuniary losses in consequence, and when he returned to England, he laid his case before the Government, who at first treated his application with neglect, and ultimately refused to grant him any redress, or to inquire into the cause of his complaint. He was then induced to draw up a petition to be presented to Parliament; but he was informed, that it was necessary to obtain the consent of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, before his petition could be received, as it prayed for pecuniary remuneration. He applied in vain; and, in his own words upon his trial, "he was bandied about from one Minister to another," till he became desperate. He then wrote a letter to the Magistrates at Bow-street, to inform them, that unless his case was inquired into, "he should feel justified in executing justice himself." "Justice, and justice only," said he, "was my object, which Government had uniformly denied me, and the distress it reduced me to, drove me to despair. In consequence, and purely for the purpose of having this affair legally investigated, I gave notice at the Public-Office, at Bow-street, requesting the Magistrates to acquaint his Majesty's Ministers, that, if they persisted in refusing justice, or even to permit me to bring my just petition into Parliament for redress, I should be under the imperious necessity of executing justice myself? At length I was told, by a Mr. Hill, at the Treasury, that he thought it would be useless for me to make further application to the Government, and that I was at full liberty to take what measures I thought proper for redress. Mr. Beckett, the Under Secretary of State, confirmed the same, adding, that Mr. Percecal had been consulted, and could not allow my petition to come forward. Thus a direct refusal of justice, with a carte blanche to act in whatever manner I thought proper, were the sole causes of the fatal catastrophe; and they have now to reflect upon their own impure conduct for what has happened." Mr. Bellingham was found guilty and sentenced to death, and was executed in the front of Newgate, on the Monday following. Previously to his being taken upon the scaffold, one of the Sheriffs put some very impertinent and unfeeling questions to him, which he answered with great coolness and dignity. In fact, from the time of his committing the deed, he conducted himself with the greatest calmness and courage; he made a most eloquent defence, always acknowledged the fact, but vindicated it to the very last moment of his existence. No man was treated with greater neglect, no one endeavoured more to gain a hearing and a fair inquiry into his case; but, alas! justice was denied him; and injustice will drive the soundest mind to acts of desperation. His answer to a most unfeeling and impertinent question of one of the Sheriffs was,—"I bore no resentment to Mr. Perceval as a man—and as a man I am sorry for his fate. I was referred from Minister to Minister, from office to office, and at length refused all redress for my grievances. It was my own sufferings that caused the melancholy event; and I hope it will be a warning to future Ministers to attend to the applications and prayers of those who suffer from oppression. Had my petition been brought into Parliament, this catastrophe would not have happened." SHERIFF—"I hope you feel deep contrition for the deed?" Upon which the prisoner drew up, and said, with a severe firmness, "I hope, Sir, I feel as a man ought to feel." After the cap had been drawn over his face, at the moment when he was going out of the world, his ears were saluted with "God bless you! God Almighty bless you!" issuing from the lips of thousands. He met his fate with the greatest fortitude and resignation, and left the world apparently with an unchangeable impression that he had only committed an imperious act of necessity, an act of justice. I am one of those who will never assent to the justice of taking away the life of man in cold blood, upon any other principle than that of law, and laws made, too, by universal consent. A man put to death in cold blood, deliberately executed, in pursuance of any law that is not made by common consent, that is, by the assent of the whole community, I shall always hold to be murdered; this consideration alone is quite sufficient to justify the demand for universal suffrage. If the laws had been made by persons chosen by the whole people, Mr. Perceval would not have been shot; it was the want of an honest House of Commons that made Mr. Perceval a tyrant; it was the protection that he was sure of receiving, from a corrupt majority of a corrupt and packed House of Commons, that induced him to persevere in denying justice to Mr. Bellingham; and if ever a man received the reward of his own injustice, it was Mr. Perceval. I repeat, that I by no means defend assassination; but in examining an act we must be careful to inquire whether some palliation of it may not be found in the motive by which it is prompted. This was an extreme case; Bellingham had been grievously oppressed, he could not obtain justice from the Government; he could not even make his case known in any way except by means of a petition to Parliament; and, as he had asked for remuneration for his losses, his petition could not, according to a rule of the House, be presented without the consent of the Minister or the Chancellor of the Exchequer. At the end of eighteen months of hope and fear and agony, Mr. Bellingham found that the consent of Mr. Perceval was positively refused; he was driven to despair, and he shot him. It may not be amiss to say a few words here respecting Mr. Perceval. He had become, most unexpectedly, Chancellor of the Exchequer. He was a lawyer, and had been hired as the advocate of the Princess of Wales. During the "delicate investigation," he had not only made himself master of all her secrets, but, it is said, had also obtained the knowledge of all the private history of the Royal Family, particularly of the Prince of Wales. When the "delicate investigation" was closed, and the Commissioners had acquitted the Princess of all the charges brought against her, the Morning Post announced that two gentlemen of the Bar had been employed by the Princess, to draw up a report of the matter, which would speedily be published. The fact is, that Mr. Perceval did print this book, but he suppressed it, and became Chancellor of the Exchequer and First Lord of the Treasury. If he did not betray his mistress, the Princess of Wales, which is doubtful, there can be no doubt that he at least deserted her for place and power. All his family and political connections, of course, lamented his death; but it cannot be disguised that the people were far differently affected by it, and, in many parts of the kingdom, they openly testified their feeling by acts of public rejoicing. There was a woeful howling set up by the writers of the Ministerial press, about the great loss of Mr. Perceval, on account of his being such an excellent husband. According to the statement of these hirelings, there was not such another husband in the kingdom; and a very large pension was in consequence settled upon his wife; it being urged in the House of Commons, that, as the loss sustained by Mrs. Perceval was not only irreparable, but beyond all precedent, that loss ought to be made up to her in the magnitude of her pension—-an argument worthy of the sound sense and honourable principles of those by whom it was urged. The best answer, however, to these hypocritical pleadings, was given by Mrs. Perceval herself; for, in a very few months after the decease of that best of all possible husbands, that nonpareil of married males; yes, in a few short months after her irreparable loss, his disconsolate widow concealed herself in the arms of another and a younger husband!

I had not long returned from Bristol before I repaired to London, and formally presented a petition to the House of Commons, against the return of Richard Hart Davis, Esq., as Member for Bristol. The petition charged him with bribery, intimidation, and the introduction of a military force during the election, contrary to the statute law of the land. I also entered into the proper recognizances, and gave security for trying the merits of the election, before a committee of the House of Commons.

In the mean time Mr. Cobbett published a second letter, as follows:—
TO THE INDEPENDENT ELECTORS OF BRISTOL.

Gentlemen,—If I have not to congratulate you upon the return of Mr. Hunt as your representative, I may well congratulate you upon the spirit which you have shown during the election, and upon the prospect of final success from the exertion of a similar spirit. That another contest will take place in a few months, there can be no doubt; for, the law allows of no exceptions with regard to the use of soldiers. The ancient common law of England forbade not only the use, but the very show of force of any kind, at elections; and, the Act of Parliament, made in the reign of King George the Second, is quite positive as to a case like yours. That Act, after stating the principle of the Common Law as to soldiers in an election town, says, that, when an election is about to take place in any city or borough, wherein there are any soldiers stationed or quartered, the soldiers shall be removed out of the said city or borough; that they shall go out one day, at least, before the poll begins; that they shall not return till one day, at least, after the poll has closed; that the distance to which they shall be removed, shall be two miles at least. There are a few exceptions, such as Westminster or any other place where the Royal Family may be, who are to have their guards about them whether there be an election going on or not; and also, in case of fortified towns, where, though there be an election going on, soldiers are to remain in sufficient number to take care of the works.

Now, then, as Bristol is neither a place of residence of the Royal Family, nor a fortified town, it is clear, that, if soldiers have been suffered to remain in, or to return to, your city within the periods above described, the election must be void; or, there is, at once, an end to the abovementioned Act of Parliament, and also to the ancient common law of England in this respect, and the very show of freedom of election is gone. It has not only been stated to me from the best authority; but, it has been stated in print by your well-known enemies, that soldiers were not only brought within the precincts of your city, during the time that the poll was open, but that they actually were stationed, with bayonets fixed, in the very Guildhall; and, in short, after the first or second day of the election, the city was, under the control of military armed men.

This being the case, there can be no doubt of the election being declared void; or, if it be not, there will, at any rate, be no disguise; it will become openly declared, that soldiers, under the command of men appointed by the King, and removeable at his sole will, can be, at any time, brought into a place where an election is going on, and can be stationed in the very building where the poll is taken. Whether, amongst the other strange things of our day, we are doomed to witness this, is more than I can say; but, at the least, it will be something decisive; something that will speak a plain language; something that will tend to fashion men's minds to what is to come. But, I have heard it asked: "would you, then, in no case, have soldiers called in during an election? Would you rather see a city burnt down?" Aye would I, and to the very ground; and, rather than belong to a city where soldiers were to be brought in to assist at elections, I would expire myself in the midst of the flames, or, at least, it would be my duty so to do, though I might fail in the courage to perform it. But, why should a city be burnt down, unless protected by soldiers? Why suppose any such case? Really, to hear some men talk now-a-days, one would be almost tempted to think that they look upon soldiers as necessary to our very existence; or, at the least, that they are necessary to keep us in order, and that the people of England, so famed for their good sense, for their public spirit, and their obedience to the laws, are now a set of brutes, to be governed only by force. If there are men who think thus of the people of England, let them speak out; and then we shall know them. But, Gentlemen, it is curious enough, that the very persons, who, upon all occasions, are speaking of the people of England as being so happy, so contented, so much attached to their government, are the persons who represent soldiers as absolutely necessary to keep this same people in order!

To hear these men talk, one would suppose, that soldiers, as the means of keeping the peace, had always made a part of our government; and, that, as to elections, there always may have been cases when the calling in of soldiers was necessary. But, the fact is, that soldiers were wholly unknown to the ancient law of England; and, that, as to an army, there never was any thing of an army established in England till within a hundred years. How was the peace kept then? How were riots suppressed in those times? We do not hear of any cities having been burnt at elections in those days. I will not cite the example of America, where there are elections going on every year, and where every man who pays a sixpence tax has a vote, and yet where there is not a single soldier in the space of hundreds and thousands of miles; I will not ask how the peace is kept in that country; I will not send our opponents across the Atlantic; I will confine myself to England; and, again I ask, how the peace was kept in the times when there were no soldiers in England? I put this questien to the friends of Corruption; I put this question to Mr. Mills, of the Bristol Gazette, whose paper applauds the act of introducing the troops, This is my question: how was the peace kept at elections, how were towns and cities preserved, how was the city of Bristol saved from destruction, in those days when there were no soldiers in England? I put this question to the apostles of tyranny and despotic sway; and, Gentlemen, we may wait long enough, I believe, before they will venture upon an answer.

I have heard it asked: "What! would you, then, make an election void, because soldiers were introduced, though one of the candidates would have been killed, perhaps, without the protection of the bayonet? Would you thus set an election aside, when it might be evident, that, without the aid of soldiers, the man who has been elected, would not, and could not, have been elected, on account of the violence exercised against him? If that be the case, there is nothing to do but to excite great popular violence against a man; for, that being done, you either drive him and his supporters from the polling place, or, if he call in soldiers, you make his election void." This has a little plausibility in it; but, as you will see, it will not stand the test of examination. Here is a talk about exciting of violent proceedings; here is a talk about burning the city: but, who, Gentlemen, were to be guilty of these violent proceedings? who were to burn the city? Not the horses or dogs of Bristol; not any banditti from a foreign land; not any pirates who had chanced to land upon the coast. No, no; but "the rabble, the mob;" and what were they? Were they a species of monsters, unknown to our ancient laws and to the Act of George the Second? Or were they men and women? If the latter, they were, in fact, people of Bristol; and, the truth is, that if the people of Bristol abhorred a man to such a degree that it was unsafe for him or his advocates to appear on the hustings, or in the streets; if this was the case, it was improper that that man should be elected, since it must be clear, that, if elected, he must owe his election to undue, if not corrupt, influence. What! and do the advocates of corruption suppose, that our law-makers had not this in their view? Is it to be imagined, that they did not foresee, and, indeed, that they had not frequently seen, that elections produced fierce and bloody battles? They knew it well, and so did the legislators in America; but, still they allowed of no use of soldiers. They reasoned thus, or, at least, thus they would have reasoned, if any one had talked to them of soldiers: 'No; we will have no soldiers. The magistrate has full power to keep the peace at all times, not excepting times of election, when assaults and slanders are no more permitted by law than at any other time. The magistrate has all the constables and other inferior peace officers at his command: he can, if he find it necessary, add to the number of these at his pleasure; and, if the emergency be such as not to allow time for this, he can, by his sole authority, and by virtue of his commission, which is at all times effective, call upon the whole of the people to aid and assist him in the execution of his duty, and for refusing to do which any man is liable to punishment. Having endued the magistrate with these powers; having given him a chosen band of sworn officers, armed with staves; having given him unlimited power to add to that band; having given him, in case of emergency, the power of commanding every man, of whatever age or degree, to aid and assist him in the execution of his duty; having thus armed the magistrate, how can we suppose him to stand in need of the aid of soldiers, without first supposing the country in a state of rebellion, in which case it is nonsense to talk about elections. To tell us about the popular prejudices excited against a candidate, is to tell us of an insufficient cause even for the calling out of the possé; but, if this prejudice be so very strong, so very general, and so deeply rooted, that the magistrate, with all his ordinary and special constables, and his power to call upon the whole of the people to aid and assist, is unable to protect him from violence, or, is unable to preserve the city against the rage excited by his presence and pretensions; if there be a prejudice like this against a candidate, we are sure that it would be an insult to the common sense of mankind to call such a man, if elected, the representative of that city; and, therefore, we will make no new law for favouring the election of such a man.' Such, Gentlemen, would have been the reasoning of our ancestors, such would have been the reasoning of the legislators of America, if they had been called upon to make a law for the introduction of soldiers at an election; which, let the circumstances of the case be what they may, and let the sophistry of the advocates of corruption be what it may, is, after all, neither more nor less than the forcing of the people to suffer one candidate to be elected and another to be set aside. The soldiers do, in fact, decide the contest, and cause the return of the sitting member; unless it be acknowledged, that his election could have been effected without them; and, then, where is the justification for calling them in? I have heard of nobody who has attempted to anticipate any other decision than that of a void election; and, indeed, who will dare to anticipate any other? For, if the return be allowed to stand good in favour of Hart Davis, does any man pretend that there can ever exist a case in which soldiers may not be brought in? They are brought in under the pretence of quelling a riot; under the pretence of their being necessary to preserve the peace, and where is the place where this pretence may not be hatched? It is in any body's power to make a row and a fight during an election at Westminster, for instance; and, of course, according to the Bristol doctrine, it is in any body's power to give the magistrate cause for calling in soldiers, and for posting them even upon the very hustings of Covent Garden. In short, if Hart Davis, his return being petitioned against, be allowed to sit, we can never again expect to see a candidate of that description unsupported by soldiers; and, then, I repeat it, the very show, the mere semblance, of freedom of election will not exist.

It being, for these reasons, my opinion, that the return of Hart Davis will be set aside, and, of course, that another election for your city is at no great distance, I shall now take the liberty to offer you my advice as to the measures which you then ought to pursue; first adding to what I said in my last a few observations relative to Mr. Hunt.

At the close of my last letter I observed to you, that it was owing to this gentleman, and to him alone, that you had an election. You now know this well, You have now seen what it is to have at your head a man of principle and courage. With all the purses of almost all those in Bristol who have grown rich out of the taxes; with all the influence of all the corrupt; with all the Bristol newspapers and almost all the London newspapers; with all the Corporation of the City; with all the bigoted Clergy and all their next a-kin, the pettifogging Attorneys; with all the bigots, and all the hypocrites, and all alarmist fools; with all these against him, and with hundreds of bludgeon-men to boot; opposed to all this, and to thirty or forty hired barristers and attorneys, Mr. Hunt stood the poll for the thirteen days, in the face of horse and foot soldiers, and that, too, without the aid of advocate or attorney, and with no other assistance than what was rendered him by one single friend, who, at my suggestion, went down to him on the sixth or seventh day of the election. Gentlemen, this is, as I verily believe, what no other man in England, whom I know, would have done. There may be others capable of the same exertions; and, let us hope, that England does contain some other men able to undergo what he underwent; but, it falls to the lot of no country to produce many such men. At any rate, he has proved himself to be the man for you; he has done for you what none of the milk-sop, miawling orators at Sir Samuel Romilly's meetings would have dared even to think of. They talk of freeing the city from the trammels of corruption; they talk of giving you freedom of election; they talk of making a stand for your rights. What stand have they made? What have you had from them but talk? They saw the enemy within your walls; they saw him offer himself for the choice of the people of Bristol; they saw preparations making for chairing him as your representative on the first day of the election; and what did they do to rescue you from the disgrace of seeing him triumph over you, while you were silent? Nothing. They did, in fact, sell you to him upon the implied condition, that he, as far as he was able, should sell his followers to them when the time came. You have been saved from that disgrace; you have had 14 days of your lives wherein to tell your enemies and the enemies of your country your minds; you have had 14 days, during which corruption trembled under your bitter but just reproaches; you have had 14 days of political instruction and inquiry; you have had those who affect to listen to your voice 14 days before you, and in the hearing of that voice; there have been, in your city, 14 days of terror to the guilty part of it. This is a great deal, and for this you are indebted to Mr. Hunt and to him alone. Your own public virtues, your zeal, activity and courage, and your hatred of your country's enemies did, indeed, enable Mr. Hunt to make the stand; but, still there wanted such a man as Mr. Hunt; without such a man the stand could not have been made; without such a man you could not have had an opportunity of giving utterance to the hatred which you so justly feel against the supporters of that corruption, the consequences of which you so sorely feel.

That a man, who was giving such annoyance to the corrupt, should pass without being calumniated, was not to be expected. Every man, who attacks corruption, who makes war upon the vile herd that live upon the people's labour, every such man must lay his account with being calumniated; he must expect to be the object of the bitterest and most persevering malice; and, unless he has made up his mind to the enduring of this, he had better, at once, quit the field. One of the weapons which corruption employs against her adversaries is calumny, secret as well as open. It is truly surprising to see how many ways she has of annoying her foes, and the artifices to which she stoops to arrive at her end. No sooner does a man become in any degree formidable to her, than she sets to work against him in all the relationships of life. In his profession, his trade, his family; amongst his friends, the companions of his sports, his neighbours, and his servants. She eyes him all round, she feels him all over, and, if he has a vulnerable point, if he has a speck, however small, she is ready with her stab. How many hundreds of men have been ruined by her without being hardly able to perceive, much less name, the cause; and how many thousands, seeing the fate of these hundreds, have withdrawn from the struggle, or have been deterred from taking part in it!

Mr. Hunt's separation from his wife presented too fair a mark to be for a moment overlooked; but, it required the canting crew, with a Mr. Charles Elton at their head, to give to this fact that deformity which it has been made to receive. Gentlemen, I wish to be clearly understood here. I do not think lightly of such matters. When a man separates from his wife there must always be ground for regret; it is a thing always to be lamented; and, if the fault, in this case, was on the side of Mr. Hunt, it is a fault, which, even in our admiration of his public conduct, we ought by no means to endeavour to palliate. But, Gentlemen, I do not, and the public cannot, know what was the real cause of the separation of which so much has been said. Mr. Hunt has, upon no occasion that I have heard of, attempted to justify his conduct, in this respect, by stating the reasons of the separation; but, I am sure that you are too just to conclude from that circumstance, that the fault was wholly his. It is impossible for the public to know the facts of such a case. They cannot enter into a man's family affairs. The tempers and humours of wives and of husbands nobody but those wives and husbands know. They are, in many cases, unknown even to domestic servants and to children; and, is it not, then, the height of presumption for the public to pretend to any knowledge of the matter?

But, be the facts of the case what they may, I am quite sure, that as a candidate for a seat in Parliament, they have nothing to do with the pretensions of Mr. Hunt, any more than they would have had to do with his claims to a title for having won the battle of Trafalgar. There is a Mr. Walker, who, I think, is an Attorney at Bristol, who has written a pamphlet against Mr. Hunt, in which pamphlet he argues thus: 'Mr. Hunt has, by quitting his wife to live with another woman, broken his plighted vows to his own wife; a man who will break his promises in one case will break them in another case; and, therefore, as Mr. Hunt has broken his promises to his wife, he will break his promises to the people of Bristol.' These are not Mr. Walker's words, but you have here his reasoning, and from it you may judge of the shifts to which Mr. Hunt's adversaries are driven. As well might Mr. Walker tell you that you will break any promise that you may make to your neighbours, because you have not wholly renounced the Devil and all his works, and all the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, as you, in your baptism, promised and vowed to do. If Mr. Walker's argument were a good one, a man who lives in a state of separation from his wife ought to be regarded as a man dead in law; or, rather, as a man excommunicated by the Pope. If his promises are good for nothing when made to electors, they are good for nothing when made to any body else. He cannot, therefore, be a proper man for any body to deal with, or to have any communication with; and, in short, he ought to be put out of the world, as being a burden and a nuisance in it.

There is something so absurd, so glaringly stupid, in this, that it is hardly worth while to attempt a further exposure of it, or I might ask the calumniating crew, who accuse Mr. Hunt of disloyalty, whether they are ready to push their reasoning and their rules up to peers and princes, and to assert that they ought to be put out of power if they cease to live with their wives. They would say, no; and that their doctrine was intended to apply only to those who had the boldness to attack corruption. The man who does that is to be as pure as snow; he is to have no faults at all. He is to be a perfect Saint; nay, he is to be a great deal more, for he is to have no human being, not even his wife, to whisper a word to his disadvantage. "You talk of mending the constitution," said an Anti-jacobin to Dr. Jebb, when the latter was very ill, "mend your own:" and I have heard it seriously objected to a gentleman that he signed a petition for a Reform of Parliament while there needed a reformation amongst his servants, one of whom had assisted to burden the parish; just as if he had on that account less right to ask for a full and fair representation of the people! After this, who need wonder if he were told not to talk against rotten boroughs while he himself had a rotten tooth, or endeavour to excite a clamour against corruption when his own flesh was every day liable to be corrupted to the bone?

After this, Gentlemen, I trust that you are not to be cheated by such wretched cant. With Mr. Hunt's family affairs you and I have nothing to do, any more than he has with ours. We are to look to his conduct as a public man, and, if he serve us in that capacity, he is entitled to our gratitude. Suppose, for instance, the plague were in Bristol, and the only physician, who had skill and courage to put a stop to its ravages, was separated from his wife and living with the wife of another man; would you refuse his assistance? Would you fling his prescriptions into the kennel? Would the canting Messrs. Mills and Elton and Walker exclaim, "no! we will have none of your aid; we will die rather than be saved by you, who have broken your marriage vows!" Would they say this? No; but would crawl to him, would supplicate him, with tears in their eyes. And yet, suffer me to say, Gentlemen, that such a physician in a plague would not be more necessary in Bristol than such a man as Mr. Hunt now is; and that the family affairs of a Member of Parliament is no more a matter of concern with his constituents than are the family affairs of a physician a matter of concern with his patients. When an important service had been received from either, it would be pleasanter for the benefited party to reflect that the party conferring the benefit was happy in his family; but, if the case were otherwise, to suppose the benefit less real, or the party conferring it entitled to less gratitude, is something too monstrously absurd to be entertained by any man of common sense.

The remainder of my subject I must reserve for another Letter, and in the mean while, I am, Gentlemen, your sincere friend, Wm. COBBETT. Botley, July 27, 1812.

By the insertion of these letters, which were published at the time, I shall give the reader a pretty clear insight into the whole of my exertions at that period. My doing this will show that I entertained and avowed exactly the same principles of politics at that moment which I do at this moment, and that I have not deviated to the right or to the left ever since; and thus I think I shall be enabled, by unquestionable documentary proof, to shew that I have been the consistent undeviating friend of universal liberty up to the present day.

It was generally imagined that the return of Mr. Davis would be rendered void by a committee of the House of Commons, and I was preparing my case and ready to attack him, as one of the most corrupt and unprincipled pillars of a corrupt administration, when the Parliament was dissolved, by proclamation, on the 29th of September, which at once put an end to my labours relating to that petition. As soon as the Parliament was dissolved, I addressed a public letter to the Electors of Bristol, promising them to be at my post on the day of election; which promise, as will hereafter he seen, I scrupulously observed.

As a petitioner, who had given the proper securities to try the merit of his appeal, I was entitled to a seat below the Bar in the House of Commons, and I occasionally availed myself of this privilege. During the latter part of this Parliament, an interesting discussion took place in the House of Commons, upon the subject of the treatment of prisoners in Lincoln Gaol, to which Mr. Finnerty and Mr. Drakard had been sentenced by the Judges of the Court of King's Bench (Lord Ellenborough, Judges Grose, Le Blanc, and Bayley,) for the term of eighteen months each, for Libels. Mr. Finnerty had previously sent up a petition, but this discussion arose upon Sir Samuel Romilly presenting a petition from Thomas Houlden late a prisoner for debt in the said Gaol of Lincoln. Sir Samuel moved for a committee of the House, to inquire into the grounds of the complaint preferred by Mr. Houlden against MERRYWEATHER, the Gaoler and Dr. CALEY ILLINGWORTH, a Parson Justice, and Visiting Magistrate. In the 22d volume of Cobbett's Register, a full and ample account of this interesting debate is given, accompanied by some very just and most appropriate remarks. In speaking of Mr. Finnerty's conduct, in bringing this affair before the public, Mr. Cobbett says, "By his courage and perseverance he has not only bettered his own condition, but that of others also; and is now, I hope, in a fair way of doing the public a still greater service. The conduct of the Magistrates, as they are called, but of the Justices of the Peace, as they ought to be called, stands in need of investigation more than that of almost any other description of men in authority; the powers which they possess are, when one reflects on them, really terrific; if their conduct is not to be investigated, what responsibility is there? What check is there? And in what a state are the people who are so much within their power?" This was Mr. Cobbett's opinion in 1812, but it appears that similar dreadful evils in 1821 and 1822, are not worthy Mr. Cobbett's attention, neither have they been thought of sufficient import to excite the interest of his readers, even although they have been grappled with and exposed in a much more efficient manner, within the walls of Ilchester Gaol. I have not the least doubt in my own mind, from what I have heard from the most respectable authority, but that the Gaoler, MERRYWEATHER, and the Parson Justice, Dr. CALEY ILLINGWORTH, were at that time equally criminal with the Gaoler BRIDLE, and the Parson Justice Dr. HUNGERFORD COLSTON, at the present time.

I believe, through the exertions of Sir Samuel Romilly, a commission was sent down to Lincoln, to inquire into the conduct of the Gaoler, &c., and from that time forth the affair was completely hushed up, and the said worthy Gaoler was considered as a much injured calumniated man. This gentleman Gaoler, it seems, has feathered his nest pretty handsomely. With a handsome salary, besides pickings, "cheese parings and candle-ends," &c. he has an elegant garden of two acres, fitted up with hot-houses, &c. equal to any nobleman's, the finest wall fruit, &c. &c.; the fruit from which walls and hot-houses finds its way upon the table of the Visiting Justices. By these and other means, Mr. MERRYWEATHER, I am told, contrives to lead the Worthies as completely by their noses as Bridle did some of the Somersetshire Worthies.—When, however, we call to mind who and what these said Magistrates are, and how they are appointed, this is not to be wondered at so much. It should always be kept in recollection that ONE HUNDRED POUNDS a year qualifies any man for a Magistrate; and that they are all appointed by the Lord Chancellor, at the recommendation of the Lord Lieutenant of the County, who is appointed by the Ministers of the Crown; and that, therefore, the Lord Lieutenant take cares to recommend gentlemen whose principles and politics are well known. In most counties they also take care to have a sufficient sprinkling of Parsons in the Commission of the Peace, a precious and over-whelming sample of which breed we have in this county. I have frequently been admonished, by some very worthy men, for making use of the term PARSON so often, it being looked upon as rather derogatory to the CLOTH; but, really, gentlemen must excuse me. If the Clergy do not degrade themselves, nothing that I can say will ever bring them into disrepute. Why, it was only the other day that I saw, by the Police Report, published the 19th March, 1822, I think it was, that a Clergyman of the Church of England was committed to one of the Prisons of the Metropolis, as a ROGUE and VAGABOND! I have accidentally laid my hand upon it, and I will insert it as a proof of what a Parson can be. GUILDHALL.—R.S—-, a clergyman who, we understand, once enjoyed considerable popularity, was brought before Alderman BROWN, on a charge of having committed an act of vagrancy. Mr. Dunsley, hosier, Cheapside, stated, that on the previous night the prisoner came to his shop, and begged charity for himself and family. Ha stated that he had not himself for a considerable time tasted bread, and that his wife and children were lying in a deplorable condition at some place in Ratcliffe-highway. The prisoner was in a disgraceful state of intoxication. The complainant, who knew him, remonstrated with him upon disgracing himself as an ordained clergyman, by presenting himself in such a condition. The prisoner upon this changed his tone, said he would have relief before he quitted the shop, and became so violent in his abuse, and so outrageous in his conduct, that the complainant was under the necessity of availing himself of the protection of an officer, to whom he gave the prisoner in custody. This, the prosecutor said, was the third time he had been so treated by the prisoner. The prisoner, in an eloquent address, deprecated the wrath of the prosecutor, by admitting that his conduct had been most disgraceful. But he declared it was done without the slightest reflection, and that his aberrations were occasioned by a contusion which he received on the brain whilst on service in Egypt. His family, he admitted, were well provided for, and he promised if he were this time forgiven, to retire to the country, and endeavour to live upon his half-pay of fifty-four pounds per annum, in solitude and repentance. All the eloquence of the unfortunate Divine on this occasion proved unavailing. Mr. Dunsley pressed the execution of the law, stating that he had on former occasions received promises of this kind, which were never thought of by the prisoner after his release. The Alderman expressed great pain at seeing a Clergyman in such a situation, but found himself compelled to put the law in force. He committed the prisoner to the Compter for fourteen days, as a "rogue and vagabond."

I could exhibit some living specimens of Clergymen of the Church of England, in this county, that would not only be a match for the worthy described in this police report, but would far surpass in infamy what is here held up as an example to the world. I could produce an instance of a man, or at least a thing in the garb of a man, the opprobrium and scorn of human nature, dressed up on a Sunday in the robes of priesthood, mounted in the pulpit and defiling the very show of religion, by pretending to read and preach lessons of holiness and godliness to those who, the night before, had witnessed him in a state of beastly intoxication, at a common village alehouse, not only degrading the character of a clergyman, but even that of the lowest and most abandoned of the human species, by exhibitions of his person, most indecent and most revolting to humanity; nor am I alluding to this as a solitary instance of such conduct, but to his common practice in the presence of the lowest of his parishioners. I am not drawing the picture of an imaginary monster, but of a living clergyman of this county; and I could describe others equally disgusting. These are pretty examples of morality; these are pretty specimens of clerical purity! There is seldom a week passes over my head that I do not receive some evidence of the abandoned behaviour of some of the clergy; and is not this a precious race of men out of which to select Magistrates! In fact, I scarcely ever see a farmer, who has not some tale to tell me, of the rapacity, immorality, or injustice, of some one of these Parson Justices; one and all exclaiming against the tythe system, which does more to uphold infidelity than ever did all the works of Voltaire, Rousseau, Mirabaud, Paine, and all the theological writers that ever existed, put together.

Let it be always remembered, that I know many very honourable exceptions, even in this county, which appears to be notorious for profligate and time-serving parsons; for instance, there is the Rev. Dr. Shaw, of Chelvey, near Bristol; a better christian, both in principle and practice, does not exist. A more honourable, upright, and public spirited man does not live; England cannot boast a more pious and exemplary divine; in him is combined the gentleman, the scholar, the liberal and enlightened patriot, and real christian. He is an honour to his country, and he does justice to that profession of which he forms one of the brightest ornaments. Although labouring under the pressure of ill health, and approaching the age of eighty, this venerable divine has made two pilgrimages, a distance of nearly forty miles, to visit the "Captive of Ilchester," during his incarceration, to console, to comfort, to cherish, and to cheer him in his dungeon. What a contrast does this worthy and pious clergyman furnish, to the Clerical Parson Justice, Dr. Colston! It would be dangerous for me to draw that contrast; a person who did not know the fact would scarcely believe that two dignified clergymen of the same diocese, that two doctors of divinity, could form two such opposite characters. For the honour of the county of Somerset, and of the cloth also, I can boast the kindness and attention of many other clergymen, and to no one do I stand more indebted for repeated acts of that nature than to the patriotic and public spirited clergyman, the Rev. Henry Cresswell, the Vicar of Creech St. Michael. I am proud to bear testimony to his zealous co-operation to assist me and the worthy Alderman Wood, to procure the liberation of poor old Mr. Charles Hill, who was falsely imprisoned and wrongfully detained in this Bastile for SIXTEEN YEARS. I had the happiness to see him liberated, in spite of his remorseless persecutors, who have repeatedly sworn, ever since I have been here, that he should never leave Ilchester Gaol alive. It will be recollected that it was this poor man's sufferings that I made the ground-work of my charges against the monster of a gaoler and the Magistrates. How much more delightful is the occupation to record the good, than the evil deeds of one's fellow creatures; how much more gratifying is it to me, to write of a Dr. Shaw, than of a Dr. Colston!

When the Parliament was dissolved I was at Rowfant, in Sussex, attending to my farm, where Sir Francis Burdett and his brother Jones Burdett had recently been to pay me a visit, for a few days. The Baronet wishing to purchase an estate in that county, I showed him over several that were to be sold, but he saw none that he liked, except the one which I occupied, Rowfant House, and the estate of a thousand acres of land attached to it. This was certainly a most gentleman-like property, and just such an estate as would have suited the Baronet. The party who had purchased it would also have been very happy to have disposed of it, if they could, to have got rid at once of the inconvenience of the lease which they had granted to me; and as the Baronet appeared to have set his mind upon it, and had got the ready cash, so that price did not appear to be an object to him, there seemed to be no obstacle; but, as I saw the danger of a disagreement between him and myself, in case he should purchase it, I made him fully acquainted with the nature of my lease, which empowered me to grub up and destroy six thousand thriving young oak trees; a measure of all others that would have been the most annoying to him, because, instead of grubbing up one tree, he would have planted thousands and encouraged the growth of timber, which was so congenial to the soil. I perceived very clearly that, were he to purchase the estate, he would give me my own price for the lease, or any sum, to save the trees. Instead, however, of thinking of my own interest, I was anxious to avoid every thing that could produce a quarrel or a shyness between us, and therefore I took care to put him fully upon his guard, and to conceal nothing from him, expecting, at all events, that he would consult me about the terms that I would take to give up the lease, or at least to give up that part of it which empowered me to destroy the timber. It was obvious to me that I could make a handsome sum out of the Baronet, which would have been of no small importance to me, and yet would have been nothing to him who was so rich. But I repeat, that I acted from the most disinterested motives, and far from planning how I could make the most of him, I was excessively anxious to avoid whatever might lead to any thing like a money transaction between us. For this reason I unreservedly laid open the whole affair to him, informing him upon what terms I had offered to forbear to grub the timber, and almost urging him not to think of purchasing the estate, with such a lease upon it, till he had reflected whether he could approve of my conditions for giving up the lease. I believe that there were few men in the kingdom who would have so acted as I did, but I valued the friendship of Sir Francis Burdett far above any pecuniary consideration. The Baronet was a most delightful visitor, a gentleman-like, easy, unassuming, cheerful inmate; and as we had every comfort at Rowfant compatible with the residence of a country gentleman, both he and his brother, but particularly Sir Francis, expressed themselves as well pleased with their reception as we were with our visitors.

About a week after the Baronet left us, I received a letter from the persons who were concerned for the proprietors of Rowfant, to say that they had entered into a treaty with Sir Francis Burdett for the estate at Rowfant, which treaty they expected would be completed in a few days. I was rather surprised at this intelligence; and although I concluded that Sir Francis Burdett had made up his mind to purchase the estate and comply with my terms; and although I knew that it would answer the purpose of Sir Francis to give me what I asked, even had it been double the sum, yet I had a sort of inherent dread of any money transaction between us, a sort of presentiment that it might be the cause of some disagreement, which might end in shyness. I therefore wrote to him immediately, requesting him by all means not to purchase the estate till he and myself had settled definitively the terms upon which I was to give him up the lease, as I knew that he was also desirous at once to have the house as a residence. I did this from the purest motives, and from a most anxious wish not to have the Baronet in my power; for fear that he might suspect me of having made a market of him. I believe, nevertheless, that the very means that I took to prevent any chance of any thing of the sort, tended to create a suspicion on his part, and he suddenly broke off the bargain, and never mentioned the subject after except in a casual manner. Thus did it happen, I have no doubt, that, from an over delicacy in striving to avoid every thing like the shew of over-reaching, or taking advantage of the Baronet's liberality, I excited in him a suspicion which I by no means merited. As it turned out afterwards that political disagreements occurred between us, I am, however, most happy that we never had any the slightest money transaction. Some time after this, I disposed of the lease of this estate for five hundred pounds more than I should have demanded of him; a fact which proves at once that I acted towards him in the most honourable manner, and that I had no reason to regret his not having purchased the property.

On the 15th of August Mr. Cobbett published his Third Letter to the Independent Electors of Bristol, and, as these letters will give the reader a clear insight into the whole affair, I shall insert the whole of them in this work. This Bristol election was a very important transaction of my history, and one to which, I have no doubt, I may fairly attribute some part of my sentence of TWO YEARS AND SIX MONTHS, and a very considerable portion of the persecution and ill-treatment which I have experienced from the local authorities and Magistrates of this county; and for this reason I wish to have the whole placed fairly upon record.

TO THE INDEPENDENT ELECTORS OF BRISTOL.

GENTLEMEN,—Before I resume the subject, upon which I addressed you in my last, give me leave to explain to you what I mean by an independent elector. I do not mean a man who has money or land enough to make him independent; for, I well know, that money and land have no such effect; as we see every day of our lives, very rich men, and men of what is called family too, amongst the meanest and most dirty dependents of the ministry or the court. Independence is in the mind; and I call independent that man, who is, at all times, ready to sacrifice a part, at least, of what he has, and to brave the anger and resentment of those from whom he derives his living, rather than act, in his public capacity, contrary to the dictates of his own mind. This is what I mean by an independent man. The journeyman who carries all his fortune in a silk handkerchief is as likely to be an independent man as is a Lord or a 'Squire; and, indeed, we find him much oftener worthy of the name.

It is to men of this description that I address myself upon the present occasion, and to their attention I now beg leave to recall some of the circumstances of the late election at Bristol, or, rather, the late contest; for, according to my notion of the law, there can be no election where soldiers are present during any portion of the time, from the beginning to the end of the poll.

Of the two candidates, generally, I have spoken before; but, I now wish to draw your attention more particularly to the pledges tendered you, and given you, by Mr. Hunt. He promised and vowed three things: 1st. That he never would, as long as he lived, either directly or indirectly, pocket a single farthing of the public money. This, Gentlemen, is, with me, and so, I trust, it is with you, a capital point. Indeed, it always appears to me necessary to the safety of the electors, as far as the fidelity of their member goes. If the man elected can take the public money, is not the temptation too great for most men? In short, what can be more absurd, what can be more revolting to reason, what more shocking to common sense, than the idea of a man's being a guardian of the public purse, while, at the same time, he votes, in that capacity, part of the people's money into his own pocket? In all the other situations of life we see the payer and the receiver a check upon each other; but, in the case of a Member of Parliament who receives part of the public money, there is no such check.

We are often asked, whether we would wish gentlemen of great talents to serve the country as Secretaries of State, Chancellors of the Exchequer, &c. &c. without any pay? To which I, for myself, answer no. I would not only have them paid, but well paid; but I would not have them sit in parliament while they received the pay. If we are told that this is impracticable, we point to the experience in its support; for, in the United States of America, there are no paid officers in the Legislature. No man can be a member of either House who is in the receipt of a six-pence of the public money under the Executive; and, what is more, he cannot receive any of the public money, in the shape of salary, during the time for which he has been elected, if the office from which the salary is derived has been created or its income increased since his election. This is the case in America. There are no chancellors of the exchequer, no secretaries of state, or of war, or of the admiralty, in either House of Congress; there is no Treasury Bench; there are no ministers and none of those other things of the same kind, and which I will not here name. Yet is America now exceedingly well governed; the people are happy and free; there are about eight millions of them, and there are no paupers; in that country poor men do not, to be sure, crawl almost upon their bellies before the rich, but, there are very few murders. I lived eight years in the largest city in the country, and there was no human being hanged, or otherwise put to death for a crime, while I lived there. The country, therefore, must be pretty well governed, and yet there is no member of either House of the Legislature who is in any office whatever under the government. The members are paid for their time, and paid their expenses to and from the place of sitting. They are appointed by the people and paid by the people; they are the people's representatives, and are not suffered to be the servants of, or to receive pay from, any body else.

Here, then, we have a proof, an experimental proof, of the practicability of conducting a government without giving placemen seats in the Legislature. And, though the positive pledge may, in all cases, not be insisted on, the principle ought to be clearly understood; and, where the candidate is not very well known indeed, and has not had long trial, I am for insisting upon the positive pledge. This pledge Mr. Hunt has given you, and you must be well assured, that, if he were disposed to break it, he would not dare to do it. For this alone I should prefer him to either of the other candidates, both of whom, all three of whom, you may be assured, have in view either public money or title, both of which Mr. Hunt disclaims. The 2nd pledge that Mr. Hunt has given you is, that he will endeavour, if elected, to do away all the sinecure places, and all the pensions not granted for real services. This is a pledge which I deem of great importance. The sum of money expended annually in this way has been stated by Sir Francis Burdett at nearly a million of pounds sterling, that is to say, a sum sufficient to maintain 125,000 poor people all the year round, supposing them not to labour at all I, for my part, should deem the abolition of these places and pensions of far greater importance to us than the gaining of a hundred battles, by land or sea.

The 3rd pledge of Mr. Hunt is, that he will, if elected, do all that in him lies to procure for the nation a peace and a Reform of Parliament. Now, Gentlemen, look back for the last 20 years; reflect on what has passed during that time; and then say, whether you sincerely believe, that this nation can possibly continue in its present course much longer. The finger of wisdom, of common sense, points to peace as the only possible means of rescuing ourselves from our dangers; but, Gentlemen, how are we to have peace? The terms offered by the Emperor of France are fair; they are, indeed, such as I never expected to see obtained at the close of a negociation; they would, if accepted of, leave us in possession of all our conquests, of all the Islands in the West Indies; of the exclusive fishery of Newfoundland; of the Cape of Good Hope and the French Settlements in Senegal; of the French and Dutch Settlements in the East Indies; of the Isles of France and Bourbon; in short, they would leave us in possession of about 40 millions of conquered people, while France herself would not possess above 17 or 18 millions of conquered people. And, which is never to be forgotten, they would leave in our hands, the island of Malta itself, which, as you well know, was the avowed object of the war.

Why, then, have we not peace? Because we have not reform, it being absolutely impossible, in my opinion, for our present internal system to be continued during a peace which should be accompanied with the usual consequences of peace. When the present war began, it was stated by the then Minister, Addington, that we were at war because we could not be at peace; and, I suppose, that the same reason would now be given; for, otherwise, it is, I think, impossible to account for the rejection of the late overtures of the Emperor Napoleon, which, as I have, I am persuaded, clearly shown in a former Register, were both honourable and advantageous to England. Not only, therefore, will this country, in my opinion, never regain its former state of freedom and happiness without a reform of parliament; but, I am convinced, that, without such reform, it will never again have peace with France.

This being the case, it must be an inexcusable folly for you to elect any man who is not decidedly for a reform of the parliament; and, amongst all your candidates, Mr. Hunt is the only man who has declared for that reform. The partisans of Sir Samuel Romilly say, that they doubt not that he will declare for reform. I do not think that he ever will; at least, not till such men as Mr. Hunt shall have made it inconvenient to be against reform. If Sir Samuel Romilly were for reform, why should he be so loath to make the declaration? He has told you, that those who promise most perform least; but, if this were to be taken as a rule without an exception, there would, at once, be an end of all promises and engagements between man and man. In this case, however, the rule did not apply; for he might have expressed his wish to see reform take place without making any promise upon the subject. This he did not do; and, during the whole time that he has been a candidate for Bristol, he has not once mentioned, in any way, the subject of parliamentary reform.

There is, besides, with regard to Sir Samuel Romilly, a most suspicious circumstance; and that is, that his leading partisans all belong to that corrupt faction, which has been designated under the name of Whigs, and which faction is, if possible, more hostile to reform than the followers of Pitt and Perceval themselves. I have frequently asserted, that the two factions cordially unite upon all occasions, where an attack is made upon corruption in general, or where the interests of party are concerned. We saw them join hand-in-hand and heart to heart when the late Perceval and Castlereagh were accused by Mr. Madocks, on the 11th of May, 1809, on the anniversary of which day Perceval was shot, at the door of the very place where he had before triumphed. We saw them join in rallying round that same Perceval when Sir Francis Burdett was sent to the Tower under the escort of thousands of soldiers. We saw them join in reprobating the Address to the Prince Regent proposed by Sir Francis Burdett. In short, upon all occasions when something was to be effected hostile, decidedly hostile, to the people, the two factions have cordially joined; they have, for the time, become one. They hate one another; they would destroy one another; but, they love the public money more than they hate one another; and, therefore, when the system is in danger, they always unite. They cordially unite also against every man who is hostile to the system. They hate him even more than they hate each other; because he would destroy the very meat that they feed on.

Hence, Gentlemen, the united rancour of the factions against Mr. Hunt, and their united approbation of Mr. Bragge Bathurst. But, of this latter we must take more particular notice. There has appeared in the Bristol newspapers a publication respecting a Meeting for the purpose of uniting in a testimony of gratitude to Bragge Bathurst. At this meeting the following resolutions were passed; but, I beg you to observe, first, the language and sentiments of the resolutions, and next, who were the principal actors in the scene. The whole of the publication was as follows:——"At a General Meeting of the Merchants, Traders, and other Inhabitants of this City, convened by public advertisement, for the purpose of uniting in a testimony of gratitude to their late Representative, the Right Hon. Charles Bathurst,—THOMAS DANIEL, Esq. in the Chair,—the following Resolutions were moved by Michael Castle, Esq. and seconded by John Cave, Esq. and carried unanimously:—1st, That the conduct of the Right Hon. Charles Bathurst has been distinguished, during 18 years that he represented this City in Parliament, by a meritorious attention to its local interest, and an invariable zeal for the individual concerns of its inhabitants, entirely independent of every consideration of political party.—2d, That in the retirement of the Right Hon. Charles Bathurst from that elevated situation which he so deservedly held amongst us, we feel desirous of testifying, in this public manner, the gratitude we entertain for services that have reflected so much honour upon his abilities and exertions.—3d, That a Subscription be now entered into, for the purpose of presenting the Right Hon. Charles Bathurst with a permanent Token of our esteem and approbation of services that have been so frequently called upon, and attended to with so much advantage to the City at large.—4th, That a Committee be appointed of those Gentlemen who signed the requisition for the call of this meeting, together with any of those who may be subscribers, for the purpose of carrying into execution the wishes and intentions of this meeting.—5th, That the name of Mr. Robert Bruce be added to the twenty gentlemen who have signed the requisition, for the purpose of forming a Committee, with any other of the Subscribers.—6th, That Mr. Thomas Hellicar be requested to take upon himself the office of Treasurer.—THOMAS DANIEL, Chairman."

Now, Gentlemen, you will observe, that here is as decided praise as men can bestow. Mr. Bragge is praised for his eighteen years' conduct, though, during that time, he has been doing every thing which the supporters of Sir Samuel Romilly affect to disapprove of. To describe his conduct under three heads, it has been this: he has uniformly supported Pitt and the war; he has uniformly distinguished himself as an opponent of Parliamentary Reform, and was one of the foremost in reprobating Mr. Madocks's motion; he has, during the 18 years of war and national misery, been a great part of the time a placeman, and he is now a placeman in possession of a rich sinecure, with immense patronage attached to it. And, it is for conduct like this that these townsmen of yours are about to give a testimony of their gratitude!

If, however, this were confined to the friends of Bragge Bathurst, to those who profess his principles, all would be in its place, all would be natural enough. But, you will bear in mind, Gentlemen, that the two factions have united here, and these resolutions, extolling to the skies a sinecure placeman, a Pittite, and a known and decided enemy of reform of parliament; you will bear in mind that these resolutions were moved by Mr. MICHAEL CASTLE, the very man who introduced Sir Samuel Romilly into your city; the very man in whose carriage Sir Samuel Romilly entered your city; the very man who filled the chair at Sir Samuel Romilly's dinner. This was the man selected to MOVE resolutions expressive of the gratitude of the people of Bristol for the conduct of Bragge Bathurst, the sinecure placeman, the supporter of Pitt and the war, and the decided and distinguished enemy of parliamentary reform. This was the man, this Mr. Michael Castle, to tell the world in the most solemn manner, that the friends of Sir Samuel Romilly approved of the conduct of the very man, whom they, when canvassing you for your votes, represented as unfit to be your member.

Gentlemen, can you want any further proof of the political hypocrisy of such men as Mr. Charles Elton, and Mr. Mills, and Mr. Castle? Can you be made to believe that they are sincere when they tell you that they wish for a reform of any sort? The truth is, they wish to put in a member of their own, that they may enjoy the benefit of his patronage; but, in doing this, they must take care not to do any thing hostile to the system, for without the existence of that all their prospects are blasted. You see, that they have in these resolutions, no scruple to declare the vile and abominable principle upon which they act. They here most explicitly avow, that they are grateful to Bragge Bathurst for the zeal he has shown in the individual concerns of his constituents. That is to say, in getting them places under the government; or, in other words, in enabling them to live upon the taxes; that is to say, upon the fruit of the people's labour. I told you, in my first letter, that they had no other object than this in view; that one part of them only wanted to put in Sir Samuel Romilly that he might give them more of the taxes than thev had been able to get from Bragge Bathurst. Mr. Hunt had told you this before; and now you see the fact openly avowed. The jobbers on both sides plainly tell whoever is to be their candidate, that he must take care of their individual concerns.

This, Gentlemen, is the real cause of the hatred, the rancour, the poisonous malice, of both factions towards Mr. Hunt, who makes open war upon the tax-eaters. This is the reason why they hate him. There are other reasons, but this is the great reason of all; and you may be well assured, that you will see both the factions always unite against any man, be he who he may, who is opposed to the system of places and pensions. But, what, then, must be the extent of the hypocrisy of the friends of Sir Samuel Romilly! They pretend that they wish for a reform of parliament, when they must well know, that such a reform would totally destroy the very root whence spring those individual benefits for which they express their gratitude to Bragge Bathurst. Sir Samuel Romilly, as I had before the honour to observe to you, has never told you that he is for a reform of the parliament; and, after the publication of these Resolutions, moved by the man who introduced him into your city, there are very few amongst you, I trust, who will not be convinced, that his partisans are well convinced that he will not support such a reform as shall give us a chance of destroying that corruption which is now eating out the very vitals of the country.

Clear as it is, then, that both the factions are your enemies, I hope that you will stand firmly by each other in opposition to so detestable an union. Both factions are hateful; but of the two the Whigs are the worst; because they disguise their hostility to the cause of freedom. Take, however, only a little time to reflect, and you will not be deceived by the cant of Mr. Charles Elton and Mr. Mills, both of whom, I would venture my life, have bespoke places for themselves in case of success to their candidate. They well know that the success of Mr. Hunt would defeat their scheme, and therefore they hate him. They do not dislike him for his separation from his wife; they would not give his wife a bit of bread to save her life, if she was a beggar instead of being, as she is, well and liberally provided for; they would see her drop from their door dead in the street, rather than tender her a helping hand; but, to speak of the separation suits the turn of the hypocrites; by having recourse to it, they can cast calumny on their foe without letting their real motive appear. They would, if they dared, tell him that he is a cruel savage for endeavouring to prevent them from pocketing the public money; but this would not suit their purpose; and they therefore resort to his separation from his wife.

Trusting now, Gentlemen, that you see clearly the motives of the two factions, and that their main object is to get a share of the public money, I shall not fear, that, at another election, you will resolutely endeavour to defeat that vile object. The whole mystery lies here. It is the public money that the factions want to get at. They are not attached to any particular set of men or of means. Whoever or whatever will give them the best chance of getting at the public money is the man or the thing for them; and Sir Samuel Romilly has been brought forward upon the recent occasion, only because there were a set of men, who found that they could not get so much of the public money as they wanted under any of the other candidates. They found the old ground too thickly settled for them; they therefore resolved to get new ground of their own; and they chose Sir Samuel Romilly, because he was at once likely to be a placeman, and was a man of a good deal of deserved popularity. They, if he were elected, would say as Falstaff did of the moon: "the chaste Diana, under whose influence we steal." They mean to make a passage of him through which to get at the people's earnings; and, all this, too, under the guise of virtue and patriotism. With me there wanted nothing to produce conviction of this fact before; and now, I trust, that there is no man who will affect to doubt it; now when we see them moving and signing resolutions, applauding the conduct of a member of parliament who has become a sinecure placeman, and who is notoriously a most decided enemy of reform of parliament.

With these facts before him, it is not to be believed, that any one amongst you will give his vote for this hypocritical faction. If Sir Samuel Romilly will declare openly for reform of parliament, you will do well to vote for him and for Mr. Hunt; but, if he will not, it is your duty not only not to vote for him, but to do all that lies in your power to prevent his being elected; for, be you well assured, that, without a reform of parliament, no man living can save this country or render it any essential service. There is no national evil that we feel, be it small or great, which may not be traced to the want of a parliamentary reform, and such a reform, too, as shall cut up corruption by the roots.

It is with great pleasure that I perceive Mr. Hunt has promised you to be a candidate at Bristol at every future election, as long as he has life and health, unless he should be a member when a vacancy takes place for your city. This promise ensures you an election; it secures you against being sold like dumb creatures; it secures you the exercise of your right of voting, and the right of now and then openly reproaching and loading with just maledictions any of the wretches who may betray you. To be a member for Bristol, in future, a man must stand an election of some days, at any rate; no one will be able to get in by a mere day's parade; an election at Bristol will not in future be a ceremony like that of choosing a churchwarden; your voices will be heard, and, I hope, they will always carry terror to the hearts of the corrupt. You have only to persevere. To keep steadily on. To suffer nothing to turn you aside. Your enemies cannot kill you, nor can they do you harm. If they collect and publish lists of your names; you will do well to collect and publish lists of theirs, and then stand your chance for the final effect. But, above all things, be upon your guard against the fraudulent dealings of the Whigs, who are the worst faction of the two, because they are the greatest hypocrites. They make use of the name of Sir Samuel Romilly as the means of deceiving you, and of getting a share of the public money into their own pockets; and of this fact I beg you never to lose sight.

I am, Gentlemen, your friend,

WM. COBBETT. Botley, Tuesday, 11th August, 1812.

These three letters will give a clear view of the state of politics at Bristol. I offered myself as a candidate for that city, not with the expectation of being returned as one of the Members, but from a firm conviction, and, indeed, a thorough knowledge, that it was one of the most corrupt cities in the universe; that the people had been kept in total ignorance and darkness by the intrigues and cabals of the two factions, the Whigs and Tories, in which glorious and praiseworthy work those factions had been ably assisted by the local press of the city. MATTHEW GUTCH, the Editor of Felix Farley's Journal, the Ministerial or Tory hack editor, and JOHN MILLS, the Whig hack editor, two beings equally unprincipled in politics, had contributed mainly to assist in perpetuating the ignorance of the people; the whole of the patriotism of the citizens consisting in being devoted tools either to the Whig or Tory factions, blind supporters of the high or the low party. It will be seen by these letters, that my great object was to rescue the people of Bristol from this deplorable state of ignorance and darkness, into which they had been plunged by the intrigues and unprincipled compromise of these two factions. How far I was successful in this attempt, may be best deduced from the unwarrantable and villainous abuse that was poured out upon me by all the rascally editors of the public press of that day. Gutch and Mills vied with each other which could be most scurrilous, and which could tell the greatest number of the most unprincipled and barefaced falsehoods. It will be seen also, from these letters, that I was assailed by Mr. Charles Elton and Mr. Walker, both supporters of Sir Samuel Romilly; the former the son of Sir Abraham Elton, and the latter an attorney, who published a pamphlet at the time on purpose to abuse one. When I say that these two gentlemen were the most liberal minded men in the City of Bristol, you may form some idea of the prejudice that was excited against me, and the pains that were taken to put me down. As, however, Mr. Elton and Mr. Walker have made some amends, by expressing themselves in a very different manner of me since I have been here, I am by no means disposed to bear them any ill-will; on the contrary, I think them two of the very best men amongst the gentry of Bristol, and an exception to the sweeping character which, in my last number, I gave of the Bristol gentlemen, although at the period to which I allude they were two of the foremost to abuse and belie me. If either of them should read this, I have not the least doubt but they will lament the injustice they did me; the names of both of them appear amongst those who have subscribed to remunerate me for some of my expenses; and I am informed that they liberally promoted the Bristol petition, that was presented to the House of Commons last week by Mr. Bright, one of the Members for that city. This evidently shews that, if they still remain my political enemies, they are at any rate liberal and generous foes; but I would fain hope that they have by this time convinced themselves from observation, that I am more deserving of their support than their hatred and opposition. They will have seen that I have, ever since they first saw me at Bristol, been the steady persevering friend of Radical Reform; they will see that I have always advocated the same principles; and they will acknowledge that the very principles and sentiments that I promulgated, during the first election for Bristol, are become almost universal now; that the very same language which I made use of upon the pedestal, in the front of the Exchange, has lately been made use of, and repeated almost verbatim, by Noblemen and Members of Parliament, at county meetings; that the very remedies which at Bristol I declared, in 1812, to be necessary, to restore the country to freedom and happiness, are now almost universally allowed to be the only remedies in 1822. These letters, which were written by Mr. Cobbett, I do not publish for the sake of raking up any old grievances; far from it but I do it for the purpose of maintaining and proving my consistency, and also that, whatever I may have erred in, my errors have sprung from the head and not from the heart.

The reader has seen in these letters, that I promised the electors of Bristol that I would always be a candidate for Bristol, at all future elections; but this, of course, was conditional. When the proper time comes I shall, I think, give a very satisfactory reason why I did not keep this promise, or at least why I was prevented from doing so; although perhaps, it would, as it turned out, have been much better for me, personally, if I had gone there again, under all the disadvantages which I had to anticipate, rather than have destroyed my health and wasted my property in opposing Sir Francis Burdett for the City of Westminster. Still, however much I may have suffered upon that occasion, I must persist in thinking that a great public good was effected by it. These things, however, I shall at least honestly account for, whether my explanation prove satisfactory or not, at the proper epoch of my history.

The general election was to take place in October. The Bristol election was fixed to commence on the 6th of that month. On the 5th I arrived once more in Bristol, and I was received, if possible, with more enthusiasm and greater demonstrations of respect than ever by the people. A most dirty trick was played me by Mr. Protheroe, one of the Whig candidates. He and his friends, by bribes and threats, got possession of my inn, the Talbot, which I had occupied upon the former occasion; and, as I had arranged to go there again, it created some disappointment to my friends, for these cunning fellows had taken possession of this inn only the day before I arrived in Bristol. My friends, however, took me as usual to the Pedestal, at the Exchange, where, in addressing the multitude, I informed them of this trick that had been played me, which I had not been aware of till I came into the city. But I soon convinced these gentry that I was not to be driven out of the city by such means, although I had been informed that all the inn-keepers had been threatened with the loss of their licenses, if they admitted me into their houses. I declared my resolution to take up my residence upon the Pedestal, where I then stood, if I could procure no other accommodation. This sort of mean persecution to which I was exposed, generally, however, brings with it its own remedy; and I soon had a message from the mistress of the Swan-inn, in Maryport-street, that she would furnish me with apartments. It appeared that her husband was a partizan of the Whigs, and would fain have kept me out of his house, but the lady was resolute, and she discovered a degree of spirit and independence, in which the gentlemen of Bristol were lamentably deficient, and I was consequently received into very good quiet apartments, and received every accommodation and attention that I required.

There were four candidates—Mr. Davis, the White Lion or Tory candidate, Mr. Protheroe, and Sir Samuel Romilly, both of whom stood upon the Whig interest, and myself, who contended upon true constitutional principles, to maintain the right of the people to free election. The morning came, and I proceeded to the Exchange, where, while I was addressing my friends who had assembled in great numbers, intelligence was brought to me, that the Sheriffs, with the other three candidates and their friends, were gone to the Guildhall, which was filled almost to a state bordering upon suffocation. Thus, by another trick, had these worthies stolen a march upon me, by filling the hall with their friends before the usual hour. As no time was to be lost, I proceeded thither with as much speed as the density of the crowd would permit. I believe that no man except myself would have been allowed to penetrate Broad-street; but I was cheered by friends and even foes, all anxious to assist me to the hustings. When I came to the hall-door, the steps were so jammed with the people, that it was impossible to penetrate through the solid mass of human bodies, upon which one man, at the top of the stairs, hailed those at the bottom, as follows:—"Mount Mr. Hunt upon your shoulders, my friends, and let him pass over us, as he cannot get through the crowd." This plan was instantly adopted, and I marched along deliberately stepping upon the shoulders of those assembled, every individual endeavoring to assist me, as I passed amidst the cheers of the whole multitude; but when I sprung upon the hustings, the shout was such as made the old walls of the Guildhall shake, and it was actually so deafening that it was some time before I could hear again. I found that the greatest confusion and uproar prevailed, in consequence of the Sheriffs having stopped up and barricadoed the Two Galleries with three-inch deal planks, lashed together with strong iron plates and hoops. These galleries were the very best places for the people to see the election, as they completely overlooked the hustings and the whole court, which was calculated more than any other circumstance to secure fair play. At any rate, every trick, quibble, and foul proceeding, every fraud and underhanded transaction, that had been attempted at the former election, by the agents of the factions who had combined against me, was detected and exposed, and the detection was exceedingly facilitated by my friends, and the friends of fair play and the freedom of election, some of whom took care to place themselves in these galleries every day; and they were sure to be so completely on the alert, that when any thing escaped my observation, it was sure to be instantly detected by these watchful lookers-on, who, from their peculiar situation, had the most commanding power of seeing every transaction that passed. This was a most galling circumstance to those who wished to carry on their old pranks, as heretofore, unperceived and undetected.—Amongst this number was the worthy perpetual Under Sheriff, Mr. Arthur Palmer. He appeared to be dreadfully annoyed by being thus rigidly scrutinized; and therefore, as deputy commanding officer over all the minutiæ of benches, tables, seats, &c. &c. he had, in conjunction with his friend Jerry Osbourn, proposed and planned this notable scheme, to get rid of what they considered as so intolerable a nuisance, by curtailing one-fourth of the space of the hall, which before was infinitely too small for the purpose of holding an election.

In consequence of this obstruction, the greatest uproar ensued, and a scene of tumult followed, such as, in all my previous attendance at public meetings, I had never witnessed before. The people were highly exasperated at this wanton and daring encroachment upon their rights, as freemen, to the freedom of election; and every now and then we could discover a voice more powerful than the rest exclaiming, "open the galleries! down with the planks!" &c. &c. The pressure of the crowd towards the hustings now increased to such a degree, and the heat was so intolerable, that the Sheriffs (the two young Mr. Hillhouses) appeared greatly alarmed; all were grasping for breath, and I believe that some would have suffered from suffocation, if the Sheriffs had not resorted to the expedient of admitting a little fresh air, by dashing to pieces the large Gothic window, or at least the glass of it, at the back of the hustings, which they did with their swords. I sat quietly down, and with my arms folded I calmly looked on in silence upon this tremendous scene of uproar and confusion. Poor Sir Samuel Romilly! I shall never forget his looks; he stood aghast, and I saw his eyes were frequently turned to me, with a sort of imploring expression. The Sheriffs, after having in vain made repeated attempts to procure silence, appealed to me, and in the most supplicating manner requested me to address the multitude to obtain it. I, however, sat firm upon my seat, and resolutely refused to interfere; saying, that I could have no influence, as the Sheriffs had, by a trick, shut out all my friends, and packed the hall with the friends of the other candidates. I therefore begged them to apply to those candidates, to procure silence from their own partisans. The Sheriffs did so; but Davis and Protheroe knew they should not be attended to, and consequently they declined to make the attempt. At length Sir Samuel Romilly stood forward, but without the least possible chance of a single word that he uttered being heard: he retired, and then joined his intreaties to those of the Sheriffs, to request me to address the people to be silent while the Sheriffs read the writ for commencing the election. For some time I declined to interfere; and urged the knight of the gown and wig to try again, repeating what I had before said, that I could not be expected to have any influence, as the greatest part of my friends were, by a petty trick of the Sheriffs, shut out and left upon the Exchange, while the hall was packed and crammed full by the friends of the other three candidates. I observed that there were a great majority wearing the colours of Sir Samuel Romilly, and I entreated him to make another attempt to be heard; he did so, but it was all in vain. They all now repeated their supplications to me, that I would rise and endeavour to gain silence, but for, I suppose, nearly half an hour, I remained immovable. I thought this a proper opportunity to place the question of my popularity beyond all dispute. The corrupt hirelings of the press, particularly the corrupt John Mills, the proprietor of the Bristol Gazette, had denied that I was the popular candidate, and claimed this honour for Sir Samuel Romilly; I was therefore determined to put this question at rest at once. All the corrupt knaves of attorneys, petty-foggers and all, looked to me in the most humble and imploring manner, and they might have looked and implored till this hour, before I would have stirred an inch, or have uttered a word to have gratified them, had I not been loudly called for from all parts of the hall, and the call of the people I instantly obeyed.

The moment that I rose from my seat I was received with three cheers, upon which I gave a slight wave of my hand, and immediately, as if by magic, the most profound silence ensued. I began as follows: "In the name of the insulted freemen of Bristol, I demand of the Sheriffs to be publicly informed by whose authority it is that the galleries have been barricadoed!" (loud cheers.) "I'll wait for an answer"!!! The Sheriff, the elder Hillhouse, "an unlicked cub," both of them being mere boys, totally incapable of performing the office of Sheriff with any degree of credit to themselves, or honour to the City, drawled out in a faultering voice, "that the galleries had been examined by the city surveyor, and had been pronounced unsafe." I knew this was a shuffle, as it was evident that the galleries were most substantial; for, being supported by large upright solid pillars, they were capable of sustaining ten times the weight required to fill them with people. I therefore demanded if the surveyor was present to answer for himself? The answer was, no. The name of the surveyor was demanded, but an abusive answer was given by Mr. Perpetual. After a shower of hisses from the audience, I deliberately declared it to be an infamous shuffle, a premeditated insult to the citizens, and a step calculated to obstruct the freedom of election, and to promote and screen bribery and corruption. I, therefore, desired the people to remove the nuisance, by taking down the planks and forcing an entrance into the galleries as usual, and I would be answerable for the consequences. A sailor instantly scaled the height, and in about twenty minutes the immense barricado was removed, and the planks, iron and all, were handed over the people's heads into the streets; and thus what had taken Mr. Arthur Palmer several days to erect, was now removed in a few minutes. The galleries were soon filled with several hundred people, and complete silence was restored. To accomplish this might altogether have taken up two hours. Davis, Protheroe, Romilly, and Hunt, were duly and regularly proposed and seconded by their respective friends, and each having addressed the electors, the show of hands was taken by the Sheriffs, and declared by them "to have fallen upon Mr. Hunt and Sir Samuel Romilly, by a very large majority;" upon which Davis and Protheroe demanded a poll; and each candidate having polled a few electors, the election was adjourned till the next morning.

My friend Davenport had kindly consented to accompany me to Bristol, and I was surrounded and supported by all my former friends, who had given me their support during the recent contest, with the exception of a Mr. Webb, who did not appear amongst them. It was soon found that he had openly joined the ranks of the enemy, as his secret intrigues and infamous treachery, during the former election, had been detected by my friends, who found out that every night, after he left my committee, he had proceeded to a secret committee of Mr. Davis, and communicated to them the whole of the plans of my supporters; and, in fact, through this treacherous caitiff they every night knew what we had done, and what we intended to do on the following day. Although this was a most diabolical act on the part of Mr. Webb, and very unfair upon my committee, of whom he made one, and generally the chairman, yet as I had no secrets, it did not serve the purpose of my opponents much. To be sure, it in a small degree enabled them to anticipate and frustrate the effect of the plans of my committee; but, as I took a straight forward course, it did not put me off my guard at all, and, besides, as I soon found that all the projects of my committee were known to the enemy, and was, of course, quite sure that we had a spy in our camp, I took good care to keep my order of battle to myself till it was about to be put in force. I must, however, own that this viper did completely deceive me; as I had not the slightest suspicion of him till after the election, when he was detected, in fact, not till I had it from one of the White Lion Club, that Webb came every night to them, and frequently supped with them after he left my committee; and even then I was incredulous, till he related some particular facts, that put all doubt out of the question, by proving the truth of his information in the most unequivocal manner.

In my address to the electors, I put it fairly to Sir Samuel Romilly, to declare whether he would support a real Reform in Parliament or not; I meant such a Reform as Sir Francis Burdett at that time advocated; and I declared it to be my intention, in case he answered in the affirmative, to give him every aid in my power. Sir Samuel candidly and honestly declared that he would vote for a reform of abuses, and also that he would always vote for a moderate Reform; but that he could not with consistency favour the kind of Reform for which Sir Francis Burdett was contending. This reply was received with cheers by his immediate advocates, such as Mister Mills, and Mr. Winter Harris, who had declared to the citizens, upon their canvass, that the Knight was a staunch friend of Reform. As, however, the Knight had never declared it himself, I thought this the proper time to put the question; the answer to which the great body of the people received, some with surprise and some with disgust. I then stated my objections to a lawyer, and especially my particular objection to a King's Counsel, being a Member of Parliament for an independent and populous city; which objection was this, that the moment a counsellor received a silk gown, he accepted a retaining fee from the Crown, to plead at all times against the people. This assertion was received with cheers from the people, and a burst of indignation from the partizans of Sir Samuel Romilly. I repeated the assertion, and added, that in case any one of Sir Samuel Romilly's voters had an indictment preferred against him for a libel, for any offence under the excise laws, for high treason, or, indeed for any offence where the prosecution was in the name of the King, that the worthy counsellor could not plead for his constituent the subject, against his master the King, unless the subject would submit to the juggle of taking out a licence, for which he must pay ten or twelve pounds to the King, to enable the gentleman with the silk gown to plead against the Crown. This caused a great sensation throughout the hall, and the truth of it was most vociferously denied by the Romillites, many of whom declared that it was a base and false assertion. John Mills, always foremost at such times with his brazen face and stentorian lungs, roared out that it was a lie. As this gentleman was remarkably deficient in sense and talent, he endeavoured to make amends by bluster and violence; this will sufficiently account for the vulgarity of his language. An apology from him was, however, loudly insisted upon by his indignant hearers. As soon as silence was restored, I turned round to Sir Samuel Romilly, and called upon him to say honestly and fairly whether I had not spoken the truth; and as I stated that I waited for an answer, the Knight came forward amidst the cheers of his partizans. Knowing what would be the result, I did not fail to cheer also. Sir Samuel Romilly said he had no hesitation in admitting that what Mr. Hunt bad stated was perfectly true, that a King's Counsel could not plead for a subject in a criminal prosecution, without a licence from the Crown. If Sir Samuel Romilly had not been present to admit the fact, these amiable Bristolians would have lied and sworn out of it, but they were now chop fallen, and I was allowed to proceed without any further interruption.

During the whole election afterwards, no statement of mine was contradicted. I said nothing against Sir Samuel; on the contrary, I gave him full credit for being one of the very, best of the gown and wig gentry; not one offensive personal expression was used by me towards him throughout the whole election; neither did he throw out one insinuation against me; on the contrary, it was the fashion for us to compliment each other. In fact, he followed my example, and after the poll was closed for the day, he every evening addressed the people upon the Exchange from the window of his Committee-room. I always gave him the precedence to address them, so that had he been disposed to join his Committee, by endeavouring to practise delusion, I should have immediately detected and exposed any such sophistry upon the spot. But I will repeat now what I unequivocally stated at the time, that, had the Committee and the friends of the Knight possessed half the liberality and honesty that he did, and practised one-tenth of the fairness that was shewn upon all occasions by Sir Samuel, I have no doubt but he would have been elected with myself, instead of Mr. Davis and Mr. Protheroe. But the Romillites in Bristol were not a rush better or more liberal than the friends of Davis or Protheroe. There was as much corruption, bribery, treating, intimidation, and undue influence, exercised on the part of these hypocritical, professed friends of freedom, as there was by the partizans of Davis, who was the avowed enemy of freedom, and the determined, unprincipled champion of tyranny and despotism. By this conduct the real friends of Reform were disgusted, and the enthusiasm that was so visible during the former election was paralized: neither myself nor any one of my friends ever canvassed for a single vote; the electors had been all canvassed, over and over again, by the partizans of Davis, Protheroe, and Romilly. I saw that the latter was most heartily sick of being made the tool of the Whig faction, without any chance of being elected. Sir Samuel frequently told the people that they were indebted to Mr. Hunt for the little share of the freedom of election which they had left them, and although he got behind upon the poll every day, yet he solemnly declared that he would not resign as long as there was a man left to poll for him. This declaration, however, proved to be a bravado, for he resigned on the eighth day, when there were a considerable number of voters left unpolled in the city, and one half of the out-voters had not been polled. My friends, Williams, Pimm, Cranidge, Brownjohn, and others, stood firmly and staunchly by me, and Mr. Cossens, one of Sir Samuel Romilly's committee, I found also to be a staunch friend; and I believe this was the only friend I had amongst them: almost all the freemen that he brought up to the hustings polled for Romilly and Hunt, but all those of Sir Samuel Romilly's voters, who were under the influence of their masters, were ordered to give plumpers for Sir Samuel Romilly, and all of them were canvassed to do so. Such, however, as had the spirit to follow the dictates of his conscience, voted for Hunt and Romilly; almost all the London voters did this, although they were urged to vote for Romilly alone.

During this contest, if it may be called one, the notorious Captain Gee was a very active partizan of Mr. Davis's; he headed a gang of blackguards, a set of second-rate prize-fighters, amongst whom was the notorious Bob Watson. This gang used to annoy the voters of Sir Samuel Romilly most infamously. Watson used to come into the box, where ten or twelve of Sir Samuel Romilly's voters were assembled waiting to poll, and with the assistance of two or three more of his gang, backed on by Captain Gee, he would hustle and drive them all out of the box, and prevent them from giving their votes. At length, Sir Samuel was induced to snake a serious remonstrance to the Sheriff against such an unwarrantable violation of the freedom of election, and he called upon the Sheriff to have Watson taken into custody, who had actually been assaulting several of his voters in the presence of the Sheriff. Although Mr. Sheriff had been an eyewitness of these proceedings several times before, yet he felt that, now his attention was thus publicly called to the subject, he could not connive at them any longer; and as Watson had been laying about him in the most outrageous manner, in which he had the audacity to persevere, although called upon by the Sheriff to desist, Mr. Sheriff ordered his constables to take Watson into custody. Two or three of these guardians of the peace made a faint attempt to obey his orders, but Watson beat them all off, and set them at defiance. Sir Samuel remonstrated again; the constables were called up, and they informed the Sheriff that, notwithstanding there were fifty of them in the Hall, yet they dared not seize Watson. Mr. Sheriff, turning to Sir Samuel, said, "there you hear, Sir, what the constables say, what can I do more than I have done?" This pusillanimous speech made Watson ten times more violent than he was before. I confess that my blood boiled at hearing such language from the Sheriff; and although I was not personally concerned, as Watson had not touched one man that had my colours in his hat, yet I felt disgusted and angered to see such partial and indecisive conduct on the part of the Sheriff, who actually turned round and appealed to me to know what he should do? I replied indignantly, "why, commit the constables, and seize the daring violater of the law yourself, to be sure; you cannot plead that you have not the means to put a stop to this brutal insolence, when you have the power of calling every man to aid and assist you." The Sheriff did not like this advice, or at best he did not attempt to follow it; but made some paltry excuse, saying that it would be very dangerous to interfere with such desperate ruffians, and he could not do more than he had done.

All this time Watson was committing the most daring outrages upon every one who came within reach of his fist. At length I said aloud to the Sheriff, "Sir, as your constables have refused to obey your orders, will you authorise me to bring Watson before you?" "By all means, Mr. Hunt, and I shall really be much obliged to you if you will aid and as sist." I sprang from the hustings upon the table appropriated for the inspectors, and from thence into the box where Watson was, and seized the ruffian by the collar, and almost in the twinkling of an eye I threw him out of the box upon the table. In the effort I had stripped his coat, waistcoat and shirt, off his back, nearly down to his waist; there he stood riveted in my grasp, with his brawney shoulders naked and exposed to the whole assembly; and the Sheriff and Sir Samuel Romilly appeared to be thunderstruck for the moment. The Sheriff ordered him into the custody of half a score of constables, and directed that he should be taken before the mayor, either to be committed or bound over to keep the peace, and Sir Samuel Romilly undertook to go and prefer the charges against him. The fellow was led away thus guarded, and I received the warm thanks of Sir Samuel as well as the Sheriff; the former was very sincere, but the latter was most jesuitical. Within five minutes the news was brought, that Watson had no sooner got into the street than he upset the ten constables, and made his escape. However, my decisive conduct had the effect of keeping Mr. Watson out of the hall for the remainder of the election, and the very brave Captain Gee became much less troublesome afterwards. Those who saw this transaction will never forget it.

Sir Samuel Romilly having resigned on the eighth day, the poll was continued open on the ninth, and the electors continued to offer their votes and poll, although but slowly; yet as it was expected that a considerable number of out-voters from London and other places would arrive on the following day, to vote for Sir Samuel Romilly, some of his friends wished to keep open the poll; but the Sheriff ordered it to be closed at four o'clock on the tenth day, at which time Messrs. Davis and Protheroe, whose forces had been united by a coalition, were declared to be duly elected. The numbers who voted were stated to be, for Davis 2910—Protheroe 2435—Romilly 1685—Hunt 455. The only remarkable thing in these numbers is, that so many should have voted for me, who never spent a shilling, and who never canvassed a vote, and whose friends never spent a penny. The fact was, that the city had been canvassed by all parties but myself, and every species of bribery, intimidation and corrupt practice had been resorted to by the partizans of the three candidates, by whom an immense sum had been squandered away. The White Lion candidate and the Club, of course, according to their ancient and laudable custom, scattered their money profusely to purchase votes; they had an interest in doing so; but Mr. Protheroe's and Sir Samuel Romilly's appeared to be a bad speculation. Mr. Protheroe and his friends could not have expended less than twenty thousand pounds. It was, indeed, said to have cost the two successful candidates and their friends as much as thirty thousand each; and, when all things are taken into consideration, perhaps this is not over-rating it. The expenses of Sir Samuel Romilly's election could not have been less than twenty thousand pounds, it might have been more, for it will be recollected that eight thousand were subscribed in one day at the meeting held at the Crown and Anchor in London; so that for every vote given to Sir S. Romilly it cost at least ten pounds a man; and for every vote given to Davis and Protheroe, supposing the number to have been 3,000 and the expenses of each 30,000_l_. every vote must have cost twenty pounds a man; while any whole expenses, thither and back, and while I retrained there, did not exceed twenty-five pounds, about a shilling for each vote. Only look at the contrast, and no one will be surprised at the apparent smallness of the number which voted for me. I believe almost every man who voted for me voted also for Sir Samuel Romilly; but his partizans evinced full as great an hostility to me as the myrmidons of the White Lion Club did. Every vote was urged to poll plumpers for Romilly; and, in fact, when they answered that they should poll for Hunt and Romilly, they were frequently told that the friends of Romilly would not accept their votes on any such terms, they would rather lose the votes altogether than suffer them to vote for Hunt. Between two and three thousand freedoms were taken up and paid for by the friends of the candidates, and all those taken up by the partizans of Romilly were paid for upon the express condition that they did not vote for Hunt, but give plumpers for Romilly. It was this shameful conduct that palsied all public feeling, and filled the real patriotic friends of Liberty with disgust. Many hundreds would not come forward at all, as they deemed it absolute folly to lay themselves open to the vindictive revenge of the agents of Government, merely to support such illiberal proceedings; and many hundreds, when they found what was the language of those who canvassed for Sir Samuel Romilly, actually went and voted for Davis and Protheroe, under the impression that, if they must support such a corrupt system, they had much better do it where they could do so with safety, and where they could benefit rather than injure themselves. If the friends of Sir Samuel, or rather those who wished to make a tool of him to serve their own grovelling interests, had come forward manfully, and declared their readiness to support and vote for Hunt as well as for him, against the coalition of Tories and sham Whigs, the public enthusiasm would have been such that we should undoubtedly have been both elected, instead of Davis and Protheroe, in spite of all the money that the latter were spending to bribe the voters. But the mean, selfish, temporising conduct of the friends of Romilly, lost him the election. The fact was, that these hypocritical Whigs would rather have sacrificed Romilly a hundred times, and have elected the devil himself, than they would have voted for Hunt. "Take any shape but that!" They knew that I should spoil their sport; they knew that I would not connive at the corruption of the Whigs, any more than I would at that of the Tories; and therefore I was no man for them; and the result was, that Romilly lost his election solely through this dastardly and corrupt feeling.

Sir Samuel took his departure for London immediately, and I went to a friend's near Bath, whence I returned the next day, by appointment, to dine with my friends in Bristol. The multitude that came out to receive me, the unsuccessful candidate, surpassed all former precedent. I was taken as usual to the Exchange, where I pledged myself, if supported at all by the friends of Romilly, that I would present and prosecute a petition to Parliament against the return of Davis and Protheroe. Upon this, I received the assurance of many of Romilly's friends, that they would support the petition, by a pecuniary subscription; although they, snake-like, or rather Bristol-men-like, declined to be seen openly supporting it. I own I did not rely much upon these promises, and it was fortunate that I did not, for, if I had, I should have been most wretchedly deceived.

I returned into the country, and as soon as the Parliament met, I presented the following Petition to the Honourable House:—

"To the Honourable the Commons of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, in Parliament assembled.

"The Petition of Henry Hunt, of Rowfant House, in the County of Sussex, Esquire; William Pimm, of the City of Bristol, salesman; Thomas Pimm, of the City of Bristol, currier; William Weetch, of the City of Bristol, clothier; and Thomas Gamage, of the City of Bristol, cabinet-maker,

"HUMBLY SHEWETH,

"That your petitioners, William Pimm, Thomas Pimm, William Weetch, and Thomas Gamage, now are, and at the time of the last election of two Members to serve in the present Parliament for the City of Bristol, were electors of the said City, and claim to have a right to vote, and did vote, at the said election; and at the said election your petitioner Henry Hunt, together with Richard Hart Davis, Esquire, Edward Protheroe, Esquire, and Sir Samuel Romilly, Knight, were candidates to represent the said City, as citizens of the same, in this present Parliament.

"That the said Richard Hart Davis, Esquire, and Edward Protheroe, Esquire, by themselves, their agents, friends, managers, committees, partizans, and others on his and their behalf, previous to and at the said election, were guilty of gross and notorious bribery and corruption; and at and during the said electron, and previous thereto, the said Richard Hart Davis and the said Edward Protheroe, by themselves, their agents, friends, managers, committees, partizans, and others on their behalf, by gifts and rewards, and promises and agreements, and securities for gifts and rewards, did corrupt and procure divers persons, as well those who were qualified to vote, as those who claimed or pretended to have a right to vote, at the said election, to give their votes for them the said Richard Hart Davis and Edward Protheroe, Esquires; and did also, by gifts and rewards, and promises, agreements, and securities for gifts and rewards, corrupt and procure divers other persons, being qualified to vote at the said election, to refuse and forbear to give their votes at the same, for your petitioner the said Henry Hunt, or the other candidate, contrary to the laws and statutes enacted for the prevention of such corrupt practices.

"That the said Richard Hart Davis and the said Edward Protheroe, by themselves, their agents, friends, managers, committees, partizans, and others on their behalf, were guilty of the most flagrant and notorious acts of intimidation, thereby basely and unlawfully procuring by threats, divers other persons, being qualified to vote at the said election, through the fear of being persecuted, ruined, imprisoned, and otherwise ill-used and punished, to forbear to give their votes to your petitioner the said Henry Hunt, or the other candidate, in violation of the rights of the electors, the privileges of Parliament, and the freedom of election.

"That the said Richard Hart Davis and Edward Protheroe, by themselves, their agents, friends, managers, committees, partizans, and others on their behalf, after the test of the writ for the said election, and before the election of the said Richard Hart Davis and Edward Protheroe to serve in the Parliament for the said City of Bristol, did give, present and allow to divers persons, who had votes, or claimed or pretended to have a right to vote at such election, money, meat, drink, entertainment and provision, and make presents, gifts, rewards and entertainments, and make promises, agreements, obligations, to give and allow money, meat, drink, provision, presents, rewards and entertainments, to and for such persons having or claiming or pretending to have a right to vote at the said election; and to and for the use, advantage, benefit, emolument, profit and preferment of such person and persons, in order to their the said Richard Hart Davis and Edward Protheroe being elected, and to procure the said Richard Hart Davis and Edward Protheroe to be returned to serve in the present Parliament for the said City of Bristol, in violation of the standing orders and regulations of your Honourable House, and in defiance of the laws and statutes of the realm enacted for preventing charge and expense in the election of Members to serve in Parliament.

"That a large body of military, consisting of the Middlesex militia, were quartered within two miles of the said City, and many of whom were actually stationed within the walls of the said City of Bristol; and that Colonel Gore, commandant of the Bristol Volunteers, gave orders, the day before the election commenced, to have two pieces of brass ordnance, six pounders, removed from the Grove, where they had been kept for the last two years, and had them placed upon the Exchange, where they remained during the whole of the said election, to the terror of the electors and peaceable inhabitants of the said City of Bristol, regardless of the privileges of your Hon. House, and contrary to the statute of the 8th of George the Second, chap. 30th, in that case made and provided.

"That a great number of freemen were employed by the said Richard Hart Davis and Edward Protheroe, or their agents, under the denomination of bludgeon men, or pretended constables, and that various sums of money were paid by the said Richard Hart Davis and Edward Protheroe, or by their agents, committees, friends, managers or others on their behalf, to influence such of them as were entitled to vote, or pretend to have a right to vote, at the said election, and to induce them to give their votes for the said Richard Hart Davis and Edward Protheroe, Esqrs.

"That the poll was closed by the Sheriffs, the returning officers, two days sooner than by law directed, notwithstanding your petitioner, the said Henry Hunt, openly protested against it; several freemen at the time having offered to poll for the said Henry Hunt, which votes were refused to be taken and entered on the poll, and notwithstanding the Sheriffs were publicly informed that many other votes were on the road, who were coming with the intent to poll at the said election.

"Your petitioners therefore humbly pray, that the Honourable House will take the premises into their most serious consideration, and that the election and return of the said Richard Hart Davis, Esquire, and Edward Protheroe, Esquire, maybe declared to be null and void; and that such further relief may be granted to your petitioners as the justice of the case may require." "HENRY HUNT. "WILLIAM WEETCH. "WILLIAM PIMM. "THOMAS GAMAGE. "THOMAS PIMM."

Having done this, I entered into the usual securities for the prosecution of the inquiry before a Committee of the Honourable House, which Committee was appointed to be ballotted for on the 24th of February following.

A very extraordinary and unexpected change had in the mean time taken place in Russia; namely, the defeat of the French army, the recovery of Moscow by the Russians, and the rapid retreat of the French amidst a Russian winter. When Napoleon entered Moscow, the Governor Rochtopchin had, as we have before seen, caused great part of the capital to be destroyed by fire; and as the Emperor saw that it was destruction to attempt to remain there with his army during the winter, he resolved upon a retreat; but he remained too long before he began it. He first proposed an armistice, which was rejected, and he began his retreat on the ninth of November. The frost sat in severely nearly a month earlier than usual that year, and the ground was covered with a deep snow. The Russian armies pursued the retiring invaders; and the sufferings of the French and their allies were indescribable. The men and horses perished from cold upon the road by hundreds, and their carriages and artillery were broken to pieces and abandoned. Having accompanied the remains of his army back to Poland, Napoleon set off to Paris, where the Senate shewed him every mark of respect and attachment; but great discontent was very evident amongst the people. The loss sustained by the French, in men, and what is called the materiel of the army, was immense and incalculable. Thus was the finest, the bravest, the best disciplined, and the best equipped army that in all probability ever took the field—an army that, under such a leader, would have been victorious against a world in arms, was overthrown, defeated, routed, and destroyed by the horrid climate, by the artillery of a Russian winter.

Lord Liverpool had been appointed First Lord of the Treasury, and Mr. Vansittart Chancellor of the Exchequer, before the dissolution of the old Parliament. A number of naval actions took place, which answered no other good purpose but to establish the bravery of our seamen, which was and had been for a long time established beyond the possibility of a doubt; so these expeditions only added to the waste of human blood, and of the treasures of the country. The new Parliament met on the 24th of November, but very little business was done before Christmas, except granting a sum of 200,000_l_. of John Gull's money to the Russians, as a compensation for the losses which they had suffered by the invasion of the French!

Thus ended the year 1812; the supplies voted out of John Gull's pocket being sixty-two millions, three hundred and seventy-six thousand, three hundred and fifty-eight pounds. The average price of wheat, per quarter, was six pounds four shillings and eight-pence, and of the quartern loaf, one and sixpence. The return of the notes of the Bank of England in circulation was twenty-three millions. By a return made to Parliament it was ascertained that out of ten thousand two hundred and sixty-one incumbents in England and Wales, only 4421 were residents: the remaining 5840 were of course non-residents; yet this precious priesthood of the established Church is receiving yearly upwards of five millions of pounds out of the earnings of John Gull! So much for politics, and so much for religion!

All my time was now occupied in preparing my evidence, to prove the allegations in my petition, the hearing of which was to come on in February. I found it necessary to take lodgings in London, as I meant to conduct the whole of the proceedings in person, on the part of myself and the petitioners. I had to apply to the Speaker for his warrants, to summon witnesses, and, amongst others, Mr. Perpetual Under Sheriff, to produce the poll, and other witnesses to produce books, papers, &c. &c.

In all these applications I found no difficulty in procuring warrants to make the parties produce whatever I applied for. At last it occurred to me, that this would be an excellent opportunity to get hold of the books of the Corporation, which were kept in the Chamberlain's office; which office was held so sacred, and the books therein contained were considered as such rare and valuable matter, that even the Members of the Corporation themselves were excluded, and could not gain access to the books, without a particular order from the Court of Aldermen. I was, however, determined at least to make an attempt to get into this sanctum sanctorum, by means of a Speaker's warrant. I never communicated my intention to a living soul; but I at length decided upon a copy of a warrant, that I thought would answer the purpose, which was to be directed to the Mayor, the Town Clerk, and the Chamberlain of the City, summoning them to appear before the Committee of the House of Commons, ordering them to permit myself and the other petitioners to have access to all the deeds, books, papers, and accounts, belonging to the Corporation, whether in the Chamberlain's office or elsewhere, and to allow us to take copies or extracts from such deeds, books, papers, or accounts, and to produce before the Committee any part of the said books and papers, that the said petitioners might require, on their giving due notice of the same, &c. &c. &c.

Having settled all this in my mind, I went to the Speaker's clerk, and desired him to draw me up a warrant to the above effect, and to get it signed by the Speaker. When he read it over he stared, and observed that it was a most sweeping warrant, and such a one as he had never before known applied for or granted. I told him it was not possible for me to complete my case before the Committee, unless I could produce some of these books, and that it was much more rational to give me power to go down and examine them upon the spot, than it would be to direct the Chamberlain to bring up a waggon load of books, to lay before the Committee, when, perhaps, three or four of them would be all that I might require. He concurred in the propriety of this remark, and appeared extremely ready to assist me in procuring the Speaker's signature, and said he would lay it upon his table the moment he had eaten his dinner. But, as it was very important for me to get this document signed, I suggested to him the advantage that might arise from his laying the warrant, with several others, before the Speaker just as he was going to sit down to dinner, as in that case he might sign it with the others, as a matter of course. This hint was made a proper use of. At half-past seven, on the same evening, I received the much-longed-for warrant from the Clerk of the Speaker, at his house in Palace-yard; at half-past eight on the same evening, (Saturday) I was safely seated in the Bristol Mail at the Gloucester Coffee-house; and, on the Monday morning following, I contrived that the Mayor, the Town Clerk, and the Chamberlain should be all served with the warrants at one and the same time! I myself delivered that which was addressed to Mr. Winter Harris, the Chamberlain.

The warrant was peremptory, but the Chamberlain required a short time to consult his brother officers of the Corporation, which I readily granted, and appointed to return at the end of two hours, to commence my examinations. I attended with my friends, at the time appointed, and found that the Mayor and the Chamberlain had got a good fire prepared in the adjoining Council Chamber, with pens, ink, and stationary. This room, they said, should be appropriated to our use, and we could have as many of the books at a time from the Chamberlain's office, as I might require. Both parties were very well satisfied with this arrangement, and we immediately sat to work, and continued at it for seven or eight hours in the day, till I had looked over all the books, papers, and deeds, belonging to the said Corporation, and taken what copies and extracts I thought proper. In this labour I was incessantly occupied for several days; I think nearly a week. I took copies of some most curious and valuable documents, many of which were published, by my old and worthy friend Cranidge, in the year 1818, I having made him a present of the manuscript for that purpose. I will here insert as specimens, two or three items which I transcribed from the cash-book

1793.
Oct. 12.—Paid Lord Viscount Bateman, to reimburse
him and the Officers and
Men of the Herefordshire Militia,
the extra expenses they have
lately been put to, in providing
accommodation for the said Militia
at the time of the late Riots in
this City, viz.—THE BRIDGE…. £105 0 0

This is an item worthy to be recorded in every publication relating to the city of Bristol, Lord Bateman was Col. Commandant of the Herefordshire Militia, at the time when they fired upon, and massacred the citizens of Bristol, at the memorable slaughter at the Bridge, in the year 1793. Was this hundred guineas the price of that slaughter? This curious fact would never have been known, had it not been for our famous all-powerful Speaker's warrant. I understand that many of the Corporation were astonished, when this fact was published; they never having heard of it, or dreamed that 105_l_. of the citizens own money was paid to this Lord, for ordering his troops to fire upon them!

1793. £. s. d.
Oct.—Paid George Daubeny, Esq. for rais-
ing Bristol volunteers……….. 300 0 0
1801.—Paid expenses during the Market
Riots, &c. on account of the dear-
ness of Provisions, in the month
of April, 1801……………… 117 7 4
N. B. The Chamberlain's Salary was
this year raised from 62_l_. 10s. per
quarter, to 125_l_. per quarter,
making the annual amount…… 500 0 0
1806.—Paid GEORGE WEBB HALL, at sun-
dry times, towards passing the
Bristol Paving Bill……….. 1,000 0 0
1810.—Paid commemorating the National
Jubilee on the 25th October, 1809 337 11 4
1811.—Paid John Noble, Esq. for Wine sent
to the Lord High Steward, the
Recorder, and the two Members
of Parliament……………….. 315 0 0
N. B. This is an annual gift from
the freemen.
1811.—Paid on account of the expenses of
the invitation and the visit of

Lord Grenville, to an entertainment £. s. d.
given him by the Citizens,
as High Steward, in May, 1811… 1,393 11 0

1812.
July 14.—Paid John H. Wilcocks, Mayor, the
monies expended by him in entertaining
the MILITARY, viz. (the
East Middlesex Militia and Scots
Greys) at the Mayoralty House;
and for Beer for GUARDS MOUNTED
IN THE CITY DURING THE
ELECTION, VIZ……………….. 437 O 4
1812.
Sept.—Paid J. M. Gutch, for printing
Advertisements for calling a
Public Meeting of the Citizens
to address the Prince Regent on
the Death of the Right Hon.
Spencer Perceval, Chancellor of
the Exchequer………………… 52 18 0

Only let the reader cast his eye over the foregoing items, extracted from amongst some thousands of a similar nature; few as they are, they will serve as a specimen of the manner in which the Corporation of the city of Bristol spend the monies of the citizens; for whom, be it remembered, they only act as trustees. Lord Bateman was the Colonel of the Herefordshire Militia, who fired upon the citizens, and slaughtered a number of them; and his Lordship received one hundred guineas for this valiant and humane feat!! The Chamberlain's salary is raised, is doubled, in the year 1801, in consequence of the high price of provisions. Quere, has it been lowered again, now that the price of provisions is fallen? The item of July the 14th, 1812, is such as I do not believe disgraces the books of any other Corporation in England; between four and five hundred pounds paid to the military, by the civil power, for services performed during the election, some of which services I have before noticed. Four hundred and thirty-seven pounds paid to the military, for preventing the election of HENRY HUNT for the city of Bristol, in the year 1812. The item of 52_l_. 18_s_. for advertising a public meeting of the citizens of Bristol, to address the Prince Regent on the death of Spencer Perceval, is another precious proof of shameful, or rather shameless, expenditure. Why, five pounds would have been ample, to have informed every inhabitant of the city of it. But here, however, is 52_l_. 18_s_. paid to one corrupt knave of an editor, merely for calling a meeting! No wonder these caitiff editors are such time-serving tools, when they can get so profusely paid for their mercenary loyalty. This is a pretty bill of goggle-eyed Gutch, and for a pretty purpose too. This shews the expense of getting up a loyal meeting! During the whole time that I was taking the above extracts, and all those which have been published by Mr. John Cranidge, not only the Chamberlain, but the whole Corporation, were in a state of fever and the greatest agitation. This, however, did not prevent my steadily persevering in my purpose. These impudent fellows of Bristol city, who were the greatest tyrants in Christendom over those whose fate it is to be placed in their power, were quite tame, were civil, and even polite for Bristol chaps! So it is always; a subdued tyrant is the most tame, time-serving, abject slave in the world.

Perhaps there never before was such a mass of fraud and chicanery discovered and exposed. There might be seen charities upon charities, vast estates left for charitable purposes, producing a large annual income, and which, if fairly let, would produce an enormous increase, at least three times the sum; but one and all of these, with their immense revenue and patronage, were misapplied and perverted to corrupt electioneering purposes! In fact, whenever I could come at the truth, there did not appear to be a single charity in the whole city, whether vested in the Corporation or not, and great numbers there are, but what was perverted to electioneering purposes. Hospitals, schools, alms-houses, charities for apprenticeing freemen's sons—charities for setting up young freemen in business—charities for lying-in women—charities for widows—charities for orphans, in fact, all sorts of charities, all were rendered subservient to the accursed purpose of rivetting the fetters of the people, by being made instruments of bribery. In the first place, the original property is in most instances granted out upon long leases, or upon lives, for a mere nominal premium and nominal rent, to the tools and dependents of the Corporation. In truth, almost all the Corporation, all their dirty instruments, and the major part of the parsons and lawyers, are tenants. Large sums of money are lent by the Corporation, to the members of the Corporation, at mere nominal interest. Almost all the merchants and tradesmen of the city hold something under the Corporation, and at the time of the elections are their abject tools;—but to give a full and faithful account of these, would be to write the history of Bristol, and, as that is not my purpose, I shall proceed to other matters, not, however, till I have strongly recommended to every one, who is in any way connected with that city, to read the book published by John Cranidge, A.M. in the year 1818, entitled, "A Mirror for the Burgesses and Commonalty of the City of Bristol; in which is exhibited to their view, a part of the great and many interesting benefactions and endowments, of which the city has to boast, and for which the CORPORATION are responsible, as the stewards and trustees thereof: correctly transcribed from authentic documents, by John Cranidge, A.M."

It is very true, as Mr. Cranidge asserts, that the Corporation are the trustees for the freemen and burgesses, to whom they are, or rather ought to be, responsible. Having made myself complete master of this subject, I had resolved in my own mind, in case I had been elected the member for the city of Bristol, to make these worthies, the Corporation, really and not nominally responsible; and, with the blessing of God, I would have made them account for and refund those enormous sums and immense funds which they had so disgracefully, so infamously, misapplied. The charities are so numerous and so ample, that I firmly believe, if the property belonging to them were fairly let and made the most of, there would not be a citizen of Bristol that would not be handsomely provided for out of these funds. No city in the world ever produced more philanthropists, or more misanthropists, than the city of Bristol. No city of its size in the world can boast more charitable institutions—no city is more degraded by poverty and wretchedness amongst its inhabitants, mainly created by the corrupt misapplication of those very charities.

On the 24th or the 25th of February, 1813, the Committee was ballotted for in the House of Commons; the petitioners and the sitting members each striking out a certain number till they were reduced to thirteen, which, together with the nominee for each party, made fifteen, as follows——

Michael Angelo Taylor, Esq. Member for Poole, Chairman.
P. Grenfell, Esq. Great Marlow.
Philip Gell, Esq. Penryn.
Hon. R. Neville, Berkshire.
H. Pierce, Esq. Northampton.
Abel Smith. Esq. Wendover.
Lord G. Russell, Bedford.
C. Harvey, Esq. Norwich.
T. Whitmore, Esq. Bridgenorth.
G. Shiffner, Esq. Lewes.
D.S. Dugdale, Esq. Warwick.
J. Daley, Esq. Galway.
B. Lester Lester, Esq. Poole.

NOMINEES.

Sir Francis Burdett, Bart. Westminster; for the Petitioners.
Sir James Graham, Bart. Carlisle; for the Sitting Members.

SITTING MEMBERS.

Richard Hart Davis, Esq—Edward Protheroe, Esq.

PETITIONERS.

1st. Henry Hunt, Esq.—2nd. Wm. Pimm, T. Pimm,
Wm. Weech, T. Gamage, Electors.

Counsel for Mr. Davis, Mr. Warren and Mr. Harrison.
Counsel for Mr. Protheroe, Mr. Adam & Mr. Randle Jackson.

Mr. Hunt appeared in person for himself and other petitioners.

The parties were all called to the bar of the House, when the names of the Committee were called over, and the 26th was appointed for commencing the proceedings.

On the 26th of February, 1813, the Committee assembled at twelve o'clock, and I opened the proceedings by an address of about two hours in length, in which I laid before them my case; a case containing a detail of the evidence by which I meant to substantiate the charges and allegations contained in the petition. The hearing of this petition lasted fourteen days, and it concluded by the Committee deciding "that the Sitting Members were duly elected, but that the petition was not frivolous or vexatious." So each party had the pleasure of paying his own costs. My expenses I estimated at about six hundred pounds. The whole of the mighty subscriptions which I was to have received from the friends of Sir Samuel Romilly, amounted to the amazing sum of TWENTY-FIVE POUNDS, and no more; which sum exactly paid one of my witnesses, Mr. Alderman Vaughan. I have heard since that there was a much larger sum subscribed; but, if it was so, somebody else took care of that. I can only say that was the whole amount that ever came to my hands, or was ever appropriated to pay any part of the expenses that I incurred, Many of my friends paid their own expenses to London and back, as witnesses, and raised a subscription to pay the expenses of other friendly witnesses; and I believe some of the petitioners were sued for some expenses afterwards. It was calculated that the sum expended by the sitting members in resisting the petition, was not less than four thousand pounds. All that I can say is, I am quite confident that had the Committee been chosen from a House of Commons fairly elected by the people of England, or had they been the honest representatives of the people of England, instead of being, as they were, the representatives of corrupt and rotten boroughs, and corrupt and rotten influence, I repeat, I am quite sure that I proved abundantly sufficient to have rendered it a void election. But it must be borne in mind, that this Committee was chosen from as corrupt and profligate a Boroughmongering Parliament as ever disgraced the Parliamentary annals of once free and happy England.

I now retired once more to my farm, at Rowfant, in Sussex; and although pretty much minus in pocket, I had yet the gratification of being conscious that I had done my duty to the people of Bristol, and had effected a great national good, by the exposures which I had made of the corrupt state of the representation, even in what was called a popular representation of a populous and free city. So satisfied were the people of Bristol with my exertions, that they invited me down to a public dinner, as a testimony that, although I was unsuccessful, still the Citizens of Bristol were not insensible of the services which I had rendered them, by making an effort in their behalf, and fighting so gallantly their battle and the battle of Reform. I was received with every demonstration of respect; and indeed with increased enthusiasm and attention by all classes of the citizens, except the corrupt factions and their corrupt and time-serving dependants and tools. These testimonials of respect and attachment to me, as the avowed champion of Radical Reform, were excessively galling to the Corporation, and to the corrupt knaves of attorneys, parsons, merchants, and pettyfoggers of all sorts, who lived on the taxes, and battened on the distresses of the people; those, in short, who were gorging upon the vitals of the poor, rioting in luxury, and wallowing in wealth, wrung from the sweat of the labourers' and mechanics' brows.

During these public exertions I had not been inattentive to the management of my farm. As I had made up my mind not to remain at Rowfant; first, because it was not a profitable farm to occupy; and, second, because the situation of the country being low, and damp in the winter, did not agree with me, and had caused me to suffer very considerable ill health from rheumatism, I was induced to improve the estate, more with an idea of disposing of the lease, than with the intention of making any immediate profit from the cultivation of the soil. In this object I completely succeeded. I so effectually on my own principles drained a great part of arable, as well as of the pasture land, that it paid me an hundred-fold; for, during the spring and summer of 1813, no farm in the kingdom had a more flourishing appearance, or bid fairer for better crops. Every thing was beautiful and luxuriant, and put on such a face as would have done credit to the cultivation of the very best land, much more to a poor, hungry, deceitful and barren soil, which a great portion of this farm at Rowfant really was. I advertised the lease to be sold, and very soon had some customers, with one of whom I quickly struck a bargain, and disposed of my lease and crops, the whole of which the purchaser undertook to take off my hands at a valuation, as soon as it could be made. Some of my speculations upon this estate completely failed. I had sunk a considerable sum in endeavouring to keep a flock of sheep, for which the farm was by no means congenial; added to this, my flock became infected with the foot rot, having been contaminated by the few half Southdown half Merinos which I had purchased of Mr. Dean, of Chard, of which unfortunate deal I have before spoken. In calculating the loss which I sustained by purchasing these sheep, which were unsound, and infected with that incurable disorder (at least incurable upon a wet soil), I then placed it as before, much below the mark; for I sincerely believe I was ultimately two hundred pounds out of pocket by the bargain, notwithstanding the infamous falsehoods of the infamous editor of the Taunton Courier.

Another speculation, in which I was very unfortunate, was the making of charcoal. I had a very fine lot of wood, which I could not dispose of, and I was therefore advised to make it into charcoal, as other farmers in that neighbourhood were accustomed to do. In fact, there did not appear any other rational method of disposing of my wood, which I had been obliged to take at a valuation when I took the estate. Well, I hired a man to make this charcoal; so far the business succeeded, for as it was very fine wood, so it produced a large quantity of very nice charcoal, as good as ever was seen. But then the next thing was to procure sacks to put it in, that it might be sent to the London market for sale. It required two-hundred and forty sacks, of about two bushels each, to make a load; these were ordered from a manufacturer at East Grinstead. The charcoal was loaded and sent off to London, altogether as good a set-out as ever passed over Blackfriars Bridge. A customer was soon found, but I never touched the cash, nor ever saw my 240 sacks again, so that the whole was a dead loss of about fifty pounds. Thus ended my speculations in charcoal, as I was determined that I would never cut any more wood as long as I kept the estate, but that I would let it grow for the next person who should follow me, to try, if he pleased, his hand at dealing in charcoal; it appeared to me to be wise to put up with the first loss, and quit the concern.

I had, in the whole, expended six thousand pounds in the purchase of what I took to when I entered upon this farm, and in the improvement which I had made in cultivation, stock, &c. I sold my lease for two thousand pounds, and the valuations were to the amount of six thousand more; the whole sum being eight thousand pounds, which was paid me on the nail, by Richard Crawshaw, Esq. the present proprietor; and I took my leave of Rowfant, bearing away with me two thousand pounds more than I carried thither. This was such an occurrence as had never been known, in the memory of man, to have happened to any stranger that had come to reside in the parish of Worth—that of leaving the parish richer than he entered it.

On the same morning that I received this money, which was paid me in_ one thousand pounds'_ Bank notes, I called at the Bank of England, to change one of the thousand pound notes. I was desired to present it to the inspector, which I did, and he made his mark upon it as good, and tore off at the lower corner the name of the person who had entered it. He then desired me to carry it back to the clerk, to whom I had first presented it for payment; I did so, and presented it again. The gentleman inquired in what notes I should like to have the change? I replied, one five hundred, and five of one hundred each. Drawing the pen from behind his ear, and dipping it in the ink, he handed it to me, together with the note, saying, "write your name and address on the back of the note, I will give you the change immediately." I stared the jockey full in the face for a short time, which stare he returned; and then exclaimed, "come, Sir, write your name and address." "Not I, indeed," was the answer. "What," said he, in a loud voice, "what, refuse to sign your name?" "Yes," said I, "I do refuse to sign my name." This was said in about two keys higher than Mr. Clerk's interrogatory. "Well, then," said he, "I shall not give you the change, till you do sign your name and address upon the back of the note." "What," said I, raising my voice still higher, "back one of your notes for a thousand pounds? Indeed, I shall do no such thing! I have not confidence enough in your firm to back one of your one pound notes, and much less one of your notes for a thousand pounds."

By this time I had a mob collected round me, some professing to be astonished at my impudence, but others unequivocally expressing their approbation of my conduct; adding, that they were very happy to hear me take these impudent, all-sufficient gentlemen clerks to task a little. The former set, who expressed their astonishment, seemed, from the cut of their coats, and the turn of their phizzes, to be bankers' and merchants' clerks; but many of the latter seemed to be gentlemen. I continued boldly to demand any change, or my note. The latter was instantly handed to me; but, as it was mutilated, and the name of the person, by whom it had been entered, had been torn off by the inspector, I declined to take it. Mr. Clerk as resolutely refused to give me the change, saying, that they had positive orders not to take any notes of that description, above 50_l_. from a stranger, without his name and address were endorsed on the note. I demanded what law there was for such a proceeding, but I could get no answer. I then demanded to see the Governor; but I was told that he was engaged, and could not be spoken with. I asked if it was not a good note? They replied "yes, it was admitted to be so by the inspector." "Then," said I, "as you have mutilated the note, and refuse to give me change; and as you also refuse to admit me to the Governor, I will swear the debt of 1000_l_. against the Governor and Company of the Bank of England; and if there is an independent attorney in London, I will instantly strike a docket against them. On hearing this they all started; all the clerks stood with their pens behind their ears; all business was at an end; and, as I spoke loud, every man in the Rotunda heard what I said. Two or three gentlemen present gave me their cards of address, promising to come forward, to prove that the clerk refused payment, and denied the Governor of the Bank, which, as I said, was evidently an act of bankruptcy; and they offered me numerous thanks for calling these impudent gentry to account, and checking their usual insolence, which, many of them said, was unpardonable. I repeated my declaration, and walked out of the Bank, leaving my note in their hands, and all the clerks half petrified and gazing on each other in utter astonishment.

I tried three or four attorneys, to induce them to strike a docket against the Governor and Company of the Bank of England, and offered to make an affidavit of the debt, the refusal of payment, and the denial of the Governor. But I could not get one of these worthies to move a peg in the affair; so I left the note where it was, and went into the country for three or four days.

Upon my return to my inn in London, Cooper's Hotel, in Bouverie-street, I found a letter from Mr. Henry Hase, the cashier of the Bank of England. It seems that, on my quitting the Bank, they sent some one to dog me to the inn, and by these means they found out who I was. The letter was couched in very civil language, requesting me to call for the thousand pounds, or offering to send it to me to the inn, in any notes I pleased. The next day I called at the Bank, with my son, who was then about fourteen years of age, being determined, one way or another, to set at rest this question of giving names. I gave to my son a five hundred pound note, to put in his pocket, that he might, at a proper time demand it to be exchanged; for it was a mockery to call it payment, it being only exchanging one PROMISE TO PAY for another PROMISE TO PAY. On my arrival at the Bank, I demanded to see Mr. Hase. Business was at an end the moment that I entered the Rotunda, the clerks all having their eyes fixed upon me. I was immediately introduced to Mr. Hase, in his private room, and I expostulated with him against such illegal conduct as I had experienced. I was introduced by him to the Governor, who, together with Mr. Hase, admitted that there was no law to compel any person to sign his name or give his address; but they said it was, nevertheless, their invariable practice not to exchange a note above fifty pounds for any stranger, without first obtaining his name and address, and they pleaded the necessity of this, to enable them to trace forgeries or robberies; and they proceeded to say, that they did so for the benefit of the public. I contended, on the contrary, that it was not only illegal, but an insult upon the public, and a particular insult to the person presenting the note to be exchanged (I always calling it exchanged, they always calling it payment); for, after their inspector had admitted the note to be a good one, they had no legal or moral right to refuse to exchange it for other notes. I candidly told them that I had kept my promise, and that I had seriously endeavoured to get a DOCKET struck against thein, for an act of bankruptcy. The Governor smiled, but Mr. Hase looked very grave. They, however, apologised for the trouble which I had experienced; Mr. Hase adding, "it will not happen again, Mr. Hunt. As you are now so well known to the clerks, they will not require your name in future. We certainly ought, (continued he) to have known you, as we recollect that you brought an action against Messrs. Hobhouse, Clutterbuck and Co. bankers, of Bath, because they would not pay you their notes in cash; you having refused to take Bank of England notes in exchange. We know that you are an enemy to our paper system; but we recognise you as an honourable and open enemy."

A good deal of such conversation passed between us, and it ended by a polite offer, on the part of the Governor, to shew me and my son over the establishment. As I was rather in a hurry, and had other business to do, I declined on that account to accept the offer. Mr. Hase then said, with a smile, that he would feel pleasure in taking another opportunity to shew me over their whole establishment, when he had no doubt but he should convince me of their solvency.

I now took my leave of the Governor, and Mr. Hase accompanied me out to the clerk, and desired him to give Mr. Hunt change for his note, in any sums which he might choose. He then made his bow, and quitted me. When this was arranged, my son, whose name was unknown, produced his note for five hundred pounds. It was, as usual, handed to the inspector, amidst the inquiring eyes of all the clerks. It was marked as a good one, and my son returned to the clerk, and demanded five hundred pound notes. Mr. Clerk handed him the pen, and desired him to write his name and address; to which he replied, that he should certainly do neither, but that he insisted on the change. The clerk refused, saying it was as much as his situation was worth to comply. I was, meanwhile, taking down notes with a pencil in my pocket-book, without saying one word, except that I would be a witness for him. The whole place was again in a state of uproar, but my young friend was immovable, and acted his part like a hero. At length Mr. Hase was called out again, and the clerk informed him that the youth refused to give his name, and he wished to know if he must pay him the five one hundred pound notes without it. For a moment Mr. Hase lost his temper, and positively ordered the clerk not to pay it unless the usual custom was complied with; and he began in a pettish manner to question my son, and in a peremptory tone demanded his name. The younker, however, as peremptorily and as sturdily refused to comply. Mr. Hase was just going away in dudgeon, when he happened to cast his eye upon me, and perceived that I was deliberately taking down all that passed without saying a word; upon which, instantly recollecting himself, he turned back, and laughing, said to the clerk, "pay him the notes; as he is with Mr. Hunt we can call upon him to give us his name, if ever it should be found necessary." Then, patting my son upon the shoulder, he added, "recollect, young gentleman, that you are the first who ever left the Bank with such a sum without giving his name." He then turned to me, and said, "You have carried your point, Mr. Hunt; good morning." I answered sarcastically, "good morning, Mr. Cashier." The clerk having paid my son the notes, I bade him good morning, telling him, at the same time, that I was very sorry he should have given himself and his master so much unnecessary trouble. My son also significantly nodding his head, and patting his pocket, added his "good morning, Mr. Clerk;" and off we marched, amidst the cheers of a very considerable multitude, who had collected and listened to this curious dialogue. Amongst the number was one of the gentlemen who had given me his address on the previous day, when I left my thousand pounds; and he heartily thanked me for having brought these Jacks-in-office for once to their senses, and compelled them to act agreeably to the law, which they had so long been in the habit of setting at defiance.

I now went to reside at Middleton Cottage, in Hampshire, situated on the London-road, about three miles from Andover, which I rented of James Widmore, Esq. together with the manor of Longparish, extending over a very fine sporting country, of eight or ten thousand acres, well stocked with game, particularly partridges and pheasants. As I found that farming was become a very expensive amusement, and that in consequence of the great increase of poor's rates and king's taxes, the profits attending the best managed farm were very precarious, I had made up my mind to remain out of business rather than run the risk of sinking my capital without any corresponding chance of making it pay common interest; and, therefore, for a while I lived at Middleton Cottage, enjoying domestic happiness, combined with the sports of the field. I soon, however, found that I was not formed for an idle life. Although I took more exercise, in shooting and fishing, than most men in business are in the habit of taking, yet some more serious occupation was required to fill up the measure of my time. An opportunity having also offered for me to resume my agricultural pursuits, by the lease of Cold Hanly Farm, near the Borough of Whitchurch, being sold by auction, I was induced, from the representations of my attorney (who I afterwards discovered to have been interested in the sale of this lease), to purchase it, and I entered upon the farm early in the year 1814. This certainly was a bad speculation, as the lease had only three years to run. I bought in the stock upon this farm at a very high price. Many of my horses cost me upwards of fifty pounds each, and all the other farming stock a proportionably high price. My principal inducement to take this farm, which contained about four hundred acres of land, was my wish to try the experiment of raising large crops of corn in the manner recommended in Tull's Husbandry; which work I had been reading with great pleasure, on the recommendation of Mr. Cobbett, who had begun partially to adopt the system of drilling at wide intervals, as practised by the late Mr. Jetheroe Tull, of Shalbourn, near Hungerford, Berks. There is something very captivating in the language of Mr. Tull's writings upon cultivation. It is so clear and so reasonable, that, when combined with the facts which he lays before the reader, as to the nature and the amount of the crops raised by him, every line almost carries conviction with it. Unfortunately, both Mr. Cobbett and myself placed too great reliance on the opinions and assertions of Mr. Tull. We both suffered severely in pocket, by persevering too long in, and acting too extensively upon, the plan of drilling wheat at wide intervals, as laid down by Tull. I do not mean to insinuate that Mr. Tull ever stated the amount of his crops to be better in quality, or more in quantity, than they really were; but I have no hesitation in saying, that the climate of England must have been very different in the time of Mr. Tull from what it was in the days of Mr. Cobbett and Mr. Hunt, to have produced either the quantity or the quality of wheat which Mr. Tull says was produced per acre upon his farm, according to his system. When I found the practice fail, and that wheat was blighted upon the high hills and cold soil of Hampshire, I took a farm into my own hands at Upavon, in Wiltshire, for the purpose of giving the system a fair trial. Nay, so convinced was I of the truth of the principles laid down by Tull, respecting the food of plants, and such reliance did I place upon the truth of his assertions, that I persevered one or two years after Mr. Cobbett had given the thing up as a hopeless and losing speculation. I mean to be understood only as far as relates to the drilling of wheat at four feet intervals, to plough between the rows; for the practice certainly succeeds with turnips, to the full description of any thing given by Tull. Mr. Cobbett, I see, has lately republished the work of Tull, and I therefore caution such of my friends as may read that work, not to be led away with the beautiful theory of Mr. Tull, so as to adopt the plan of drilling wheat to any extent. In certain soils it may succeed with barley; but in these times it is too expensive a system for any one to pursue with advantage to any extent. Those who have good light ploughing sandy, or sandy loam soils, will find it answer their most sanguine expectations, in turnips of any sort, and particularly in the cultivation of Swedish turnips. Of course, I only address myself to those farmers who superintend the whole progress of drilling, transplanting, hoeing and ploughing; for Tull's is not a system to answer if trusted to servants. I can only say for myself, that I adhered to the system so long, that I believe I was minus by it, first and last, above a thousand pounds, and I believe Mr. Cobbett was a loser to an equal degree.

We must now turn our attention again to politics. The immense losses sustained by the French in their retreat from Moscow to the Russian frontier, compelled them to continue their retreat, and from Wilna Napoleon set off for Paris. The treacherous Prussians now betrayed him; their General led the way by entering into a convention, and the King followed by joining the coalition. Many places fell, and the victorious Russians entered Warsaw, and advanced to the Elbe. Jaded and dispirited, the French troops were defeated in almost every battle; in fact they had never recovered the effect of the dreadful ravages committed upon their ranks by the horrors of a Russian winter. Russia, Prussia, and Sweden now all leagued together, and supported by the treasures of England, the wealth of the British nation, wrung from the sweat of John Gull's brow, was lavished to maintain the armies of the Northern hordes, which were advancing against France. John Gull was stark mad with joy at the news of the defeat of the French; and the general cry amongst the shopkeepers and farmers was, "down with Buonaparte, cost what it will!" They not only were willing to advance large sums in taxes, but the Parliament was encouraged and hallooed on, by what are called the middle classes, to borrow and spend without controul. O how drunk the farmers used to get at every account that reached England of the ill success and the defeat of the French! John would at this time not only have spent his last shilling, but he was ready to pawn even his breeches off his rump, to support the Ministers in their extravagance.

Upon Napoleon's return to Paris he laid the state of his affairs candidly before the Senate, and they immediately voted him 350,000 men to repair his losses. Having accomplished this point, he was not disposed, like some of his Royal enemies, to waste his time in the lap of luxury and slothful, inglorious idleness; he therefore set off and joined his army again at Mentz, on the 20th of April. He opened the campaign by the battle of Leitzen, in which the French arms were once more victorious. This was followed up by two successful battles at Baultzen and Wiertzen, which compelled the Allies to repass the Oder. Napoleon then proposed an armistice, which was accepted; but, as the terms of peace could not be settled, the war re-commenced, and with great disadvantage to the French. The Crown Prince of Sweden, who had deserted his benefactor, and joined the Allies against him in the North of Germany, now took the field with a formidable army. But the fatal blow to Napoleon was the defection of Austria, which never joined the coalition on the 12th of August. The Allies having united all their forces, to the number of 180,000 men, the French army now took up a position on the river Elbe, and attacked Napoleon in his position near Dresden; but they were foiled, and compelled to retire into Bohemia by the superiority of his military skill. This advantage was, however, rendered of no avail by the loss of a division of 12,000 men under Vandamme, who had imprudently entangled himself in the defiles of Bohemia, where he was surrounded and compelled to surrender. Macdonald was also defeated, with heavy loss, in Silesia; and Marshal Ney at Dennewitz. Bavaria, which owed so much to Napoleon, now not only abandoned him, but also united its forces with those of Austria, its natural enemy. Napoleon had by this time taken up a position in the neighbourhood of Leipsic, and to that spot the combined forces, consisting of 330,000 men, advanced to give him battle. The French army was not more than 175,000 strong. The battle, or rather succession of battles, lasted from the 16th to the 19th of October, and was sanguinary beyond example. The scale was, at length, decisively turned against the French by the desertion of the Saxons, who went over to the Allies, and turned their cannon against their recent comrades at the critical period of the contest. The French were compelled to commence their retreat, and by the destruction of a bridge their rear-guard was cut off, and made prisoners. They fell back towards the Rhine, and found the Bavarian army posted at Hanau to intercept them. The Bavarians were, however, defeated, and the French army reached the Rhine.

Napoleon now hasted to Paris, and having assembled the Senate, he laid before them the full particulars of his disastrous campaign, upon which they immediately ordered out 300,000 conscripts. At this time the news reached the French capital of the counter-revolution that had taken place in Holland—that Dresden had surrendered to the enemy with 23,000 men—that Westphalia was lost, and that the Dalmatian coast was occupied by the Austrians; in fact, that misfortune and defeat attended the French arms in every quarter. The arms of England meanwhile were victorious in Spain, and under Wellington gained a decisive victory at Vittoria. Wellington having stormed St. Sebastian, entered France without any interruption, and easily defeated the French at St. Jean de Leu and on the Nive. As, by the advance of Wellington into France, they had got rid of what were always considered by the Spanish people as equally troublesome intruders, namely, both the French and English armies, the Cortes began to act with some vigour; the Regency was dimissed, and a new one formed. The extraordinary Cortes were dissolved, and the ordinary Cortes summoned.

In America, Mr. Madison was elected President in the room of Mr. Jefferson. The Congress assembled, and a paper was laid before them that justified the war which they had entered into against England. One of their armies made an attempt upon Niagara, but it was repulsed. Dearborn was also obliged to retire from Lake Champlain. In the mean time the ports were declared to be in a state of blockade by the English. The Americans took York town, in Canada, and Mobille, in West Florida. The Emperor of Russia offered himself as mediator, and the President appointed three citizens to treat with England. On Lake Ontario the British fleet was successful; but on Lake Erie the Americans defeated the English fleet, and took the whole of her naval force in that quarter.

When the Parliament met, the British Ministers also laid papers upon the table to justify themselves from being in fault in making war upon America. The great cause of this war with America, be it remembered, was this: The English had always claimed a right to search all American vessels, and even ships of war, for English seamen, which, if found on board an American ship, were seized and forcibly removed on board English ships of war. This had been always complained of by the Americans as an unjust and arbitrary proceeding. But the English fleets being always masters of the ocean, the British claimed and enforced this right of search, which the Americans, not being able to resist, reluctantly submitted to, no doubt with a determination to throw off the galling yoke as soon as they thought themselves able to offer a successful resistance. They now believed that time to be arrived, and they resolved to make the attempt; and wherever they were strong enough they resisted all attempts to search. On the part of the Americans I may say that this was the only substantial cause of the war; all the other aggressions and insults that were offered by the English, (and they were many) might have been, and would, for some time at least, have been endured without an open rupture; the right of search by the English was therefore the grand matter in dispute.

Some debates took place in the House of Commons respecting the Princess of Wales, but nothing definite was agreed upon. At length, however, her conduct was inquired into, and as it was approved of, the public could no longer be restrained, by the intrigues of petty and interested politicians, from openly expressing their sentiments upon the subject of her ill-treatment. A Common Hall was called, on the suggestion of Alderman Wood, who got a requisition signed, and who moved the Resolutions and an Address to her Royal Highness, all which were strenuously opposed by Mr. Waithman, who was backed by the "well weighed opinion" of Mr. Sturch, of Westminster, so well known as having taken a very active part in the election of Sir F. Burdett. This was the first and the last time I ever knew Daddy Sturch, (as he is called in Westminster) appear upon the hustings at Guildhall, to address the Livery at a Common Hall. Nevertheless, in spite of the violent opposition of Mr. Waithman, and "the well weighed opinion" of Mr. Sturch, to which Mr. Waithman earnestly recommended the Livery to attend, the Address was carried by an overwhelming majority. Notwithstanding Mr. Waithman's objections to voting the Address, yet he fell in with the stream, and went up in his carriage with the procession, to present the Address to her Royal Highness, who then resided at Kensington Palace, and he received with great sang froid the sarcastic thanks and polite attention of the Princess.

I do not know that the circumstances attending the management of the various parties, who took a lead in this affair, have ever been placed in a clear light before the public, and possibly some of them may never be made known; but, as I am acquainted with many of the secret springs by which the parties were worked upon and moved, I will relate one of the intrigues of the City plotters, which delayed for a whole year the expression of the public opinion. While Mr. Cobbett was in Newgate, in the year 1812, Mr. Alderman Wood was very anxious to procure a Common Hall, to address her Royal Highness, and I was present when a requisition was drawn up, which he took away with him, for the purpose of getting it signed by a number of the Livery, that it might be presented to the Lord Mayor. On the next day, he came back, and said that he had found it almost impossible to succeed; that when they became acquainted with his object, the friends of Mr. Waithman had so actively exerted themselves to prevent the calling a Common Hall, that he was induced to decline proceeding at that time, he being fully convinced that, even if he procured a meeting, there would be such an opposition to the Address that it would be imprudent for him at this moment to persevere. Thus it will be seen that the worthy Alderman was anxious to exert himself in favour of an Address to her Royal Highness, a full year before he could bring it to bear; and that the very same party in the city who, by dint of intrigue, contrived at that period to prevent the Common Hall, likewise strained every nerve to prevent the Address being carried, when the worthy Alderman did at length get a Hall of the Livery convened. Mr. Waithman, who found that there was a great public feeling in favour of the Princess of Wales, brought forward Mr. Sturch, (who had acquired a considerable degree of popularity in Westminster) to assist him at the Common Hall inputting down and neutralizing that honest feeling. He urged the Livery, if he had lost their confidence, and they did not choose to rely upon his advice, at least to listen with attention to the "well weighed opinion of his respectable and intelligent friend, Mr. STURCH." But all would not do! The City Cock was left in a contemptible minority, the honest efforts of the worthy Alderman Wood were crowned with complete success, the Address was carried by acclamation, and it was agreed that the Lord Mayor, Sheriffs, and Livery, dressed in their gowns, should carry up their Address, and present it to her Royal Highness at Kensington Palace; and, to crown the whole, Mr. Waithman, who had so pertinaciously opposed the Address, was one of the most conspicuous in the procession to carry it up to her Royal Highness, to whom this fact of his opposition was well known! There are some other curious circumstances, connected with this support of her Royal Highness at that epoch, which it may be necessary at a future time to lay before the public; and although, after what we have seen, they will not create any great surprise as to the conduct of the party concerned, yet they will doubtless excite the indignation of every honest man and woman in the country.

In consequence of this sort of conduct in Mr. Waithman, in his frequent opposition to the honest, straight-forward proceedings of Mr. Alderman Wood, I was induced to accept the invitation that had been often given me by Mr. Samuel Millar, as well as by many others, to become a Liveryman of the city, the expenses attending which, I was always told, should be discharged for me as soon as I would give my assent. At length I agreed to the proposal, solely with a view to endeavour to counteract the tricks and intrigues of the Whig or Waithmanite faction in the city, when assembled in Common Hall. Well, the time came, I obtained my freedom, and I was sworn a Liveryman in the Lorimer's Company. This was managed by Mr. Millar, through the instrumentality of Mr. Ireland, of Holborn-bridge; but instead of having the expenses paid for me, I had to pay the whole myself, which I believe were about fifty pounds. I shall not easily forget, when I appeared for the first time upon the hustings in Guildhall, what long faces were exhibited, and what surprise it created. On my stepping forward to address that Livery, the Lord Mayor, Scholey, jumped up out of his chair, and exclaimed, "is he a liveryman?" Mr. Millar answered significantly, "YES;" and I proceeded. At this period I found Mr. Millar, Mr. Thompson, the spirit-merchant, of Holborn-hill, and Mr. Alexander Galloway, with a few others, decidedly hostile to the measures of Mr. Waithman, but wanting the resolution and the confidence to oppose him openly.

I have been frequently reminded of particular events of my life that I have omitted in my Memoirs, many of which had for years been banished from my memory, and if I were to record every little incident which might occur to me I should extend my volumes to an unwieldy size. I have therefore been compelled to pass over many occurrences which some might think of importance, but I have been careful not to omit any part of my political history which I could recollect. One circumstance I shall notice, which has been recalled to my memory by the publication of a virulent although impotent attack upon my public and private character, by one of those mushroom politicians, of which class I have seen hundreds, who spring up in a day and are gone in an hour, and we hear no more of them. I have been reminded of the imprisonment of Mr. White, the proprietor and editor of the Independent Whig, a London weekly newspaper, which was published by him for many years with great public spirit and patriotic talent. As a public writer, I consider Mr. White to be a man of the most inflexible integrity, and although from the very title of his paper it may easily be conceived that Mr. White and myself were of opposite sentiments as to the course that ought to be followed to recover our lost rights and violated liberties, yet we never were at variance on that account. I always believed Mr. White to be a real friend to Liberty, and I believe that he considered me to be the same; consequently we never quarrelled about shades of difference in opinion how that liberty was to be obtained and secured. The Editor of the Independent Whig was also a zealous guardian of the right conferred by real, undisguised, and honest trial by jury. He was the lynx-eyed scrutinizer of the conduct of the Judges; the honest censor of the Courts of Justice; therefore, of all men he was the most likely to fall under the displeasure of the dispensers of the laws. To criticise fairly the conduct of the Judges, though it is one of the most necessary and the most honourable of occupations, is likewise one of the most dangerous. There is always plenty of room for severe animadversion, and the harpies of the Courts are always upon the look-out, to pounce upon and make victims of those who venture to animadvert on them. Having been justly strong in his censures upon the arbitrary and corrupt conduct of Lord Ellenborough, the Chief Justice of the Court of King's Bench, who was as violent and intemperate a political Judge that ever disgraced the Bench, Mr. White was prosecuted by the Attorney-General for a libel, and was sentenced to be imprisoned in Dorchester Gaol for three years. Mr. Hart, the printer of the Independent Whig, was imprisoned in Gloucester Gaol at the same time, for the same libel. I was not then personally acquainted with either of them; but in some newspaper, (most likely the Independent Whig) I read that Mr. Hart was subject to very great privations in Gloucester Gaol, and, amongst other things, that he was deprived of seeing his family and friends in private, he being obliged, even with his wife, to converse in the presence and hearing of a turnkey, through the iron bars of his dungeon door; and that he was very much restricted for room to walk in to procure fresh air. I was then living at Clifton, and had as yet entered but very little into politics; but from my earliest age I had been taught to hate oppression and practice humanity. I was told that the readers of the Independent Whig had met in Bristol, and in London also, I think, and passed some strong resolutions, and made some excellent speeches, condemning such inhuman and barbarous conduct; but still the restrictions remained the same, and these worthy men might have met and passed resolutions till the imprisonment of Mr. Hart had been at an end, without the slightest chance of rendering him any real service. As mere pity and speech-making could be of no use, I drove over in my curricle to Gloucester, a distance of nearly forty miles, to see what could be done for the aggrieved prisoner. I called at the prison, and asked to see Mr. Hart, but I was too late in the evening. I slept at the Bell, and called again the next morning, as soon as I could gain admittance, having employed the intermediate time in endeavouring to obtain information relating to the Gaol, the Visiting Magistrates, and other necessary particulars. As, however, I was a perfect stranger at Gloucester, I made but little progress; for every one I met appeared as shy of having any thing to say about the gaol, as if he were himself afraid of becoming an inmate in the horrid place. At length, I found a person of the name of Wittick, a hair-dresser, the genuine Dickey Gossip of the city, who was exactly what I wanted. Having told him my name and my business, he "let loose his tongue," and gave me such a history of some of the revolting scenes that occurred within the walls of their city bastile, as harrowed up my soul with horror. The victims of oppression and tyranny, as Wittick had described them, flitted before my imagination during the whole night, and I rose in the morning but little refreshed with my night's rest.

On my repairing to the Gaol I was admitted to the door of Mr. Hart's dungeon, and there I ascertained from his own mouth, and indeed from my own observation, the truth of the statements which I had seen in the paper. All that passed was in the presence of a turn-key, Mr. Hart standing in the inside, and I on the outside, of a door composed of iron bars. He said his wife was come from London, in hopes of being permitted to administer to his comforts, and to alleviate the horrors of his imprisonment; but she was nearly heart-broken, and was going to return the next day, as she had been refused by the Visiting Magistrates any further admission to him than to see him through the iron door; he added also, that his health was impaired by the want of fresh air, as he was only permitted to walk certain hours in the day, in a small court, surrounded with high walls, which excluded a free circulation of air and the genial influence of the sun. I told him who and what I was; and, as I had come from Clifton on purpose to endeavour to render him some assistance, I desired him to delay for a few days the departure of his wife, while in the interval I would do my best to procure her admission to him. As I was quite a stranger to the Magistrates, I could not answer for my success, but I would at any rate make the attempt. He thanked me, but with a deep sigh said, he feared my kindness would be in vain, though his wife should certainly not leave the place till I had tried the experiment.

I took leave of Mr. Hart, and repaired to the Visiting Magistrates; one of them was from home; the second, a parson, I think, heard what I had to say, was exceedingly civil and polite, but preached a good deal about good order and the necessity of keeping up a strict prison discipline. He, nevertheless, promised that he would do all that was in his power at the next meeting of the Magistrates, which would take place in a fortnight; but he emphatically observed, "you know I am but one, Mr. Hunt." "A fortnight!" I exclaimed, "why, Sir, the poor woman will leave Gloucester broken-hearted long before half that time arrives." "Come, come, Sir," replied he, "these things cannot be accomplished so easily as you imagine; and after all I must say, that although I promise to do every thing that lies in my power to serve the unfortunate prisoner, you must allow that his crime is a most heinous one. I cannot give you any great encouragement to hope that I shall succeed with Sir George Paull and the other Magistrates." This chap was a thorough Dr. Colston in his heart, and I left him with a determination not to trust my case in his hands. I next ordered my curricle and drove to Sir George Paull's. I was introduced to him immediately, and I communicated the object of my visit. He had received me very politely, but the moment that I mentioned my business, he drew up, and began to hesitate and make excuses. Before I left him, however, he admitted that Mr. Hart's case was a very hard one, and he promised most faithfully that he would do whatever was in his power to comply with my request, which was, that his wife might have free access to him, and that he might have the liberty of walking in a larger yard. But I found this could not be done under a fortnight, and he politely assured me that he would write me the result of the meeting of Magistrates.

Though in the manner of this gentleman, who I believe was chairman of the quarter sessions, there was something much more honest and open than in that of his brother justices, yet when I left him, to return to Gloucester, I was not satisfied that I had done all that I could do, and therefore I drove on to Bromsgrove, in Herefordshire, to call on Mr. Honeywood Yate, of whom I had heard as an independent Magistrate, as well as a friend of Reform. I soon enlisted him in the service; but he was very much engaged with other business, which, after awhile, as Mr. Yate was a very humane man, was made subservient to the cause of the oppressed and persecuted captive. Mr. Yate went to Gloucester the next day. Before I returned to Clifton I had the satisfaction of hearing that there was an order made for Mrs. Hart to visit her husband in his room, and for him to walk in the garden, I think, of the Governor. To the kindness and humanity of Mr. Yate was Mr. Hart greatly indebted for this indulgence. Without his assistance it might never have been granted; at any rate it would have been protracted to a cruel distance.

Since that period I have never seen Mr. Hart except once, and that was in London, after the term of his imprisonment had expired; and for the trouble which I had taken in his behalf, I was amply rewarded by the manner in which he expressed his sense of the accommodation that I had been so instrumental in procuring for him. If he read this, it will recall the whole to his recollection. Mr. White laboured under an asthmatic complaint, and suffered greatly from his confinement; but I understood that he was treated with proper respect and attention by the Magistrates. Pittman, who was then the head turnkey of Dorchester Gaol, called upon me the other day, and almost the first words he uttered were, that the apartments allotted to Mr. White and his family, in Dorchester Gaol, were quite a palace compared to the room in which he found me. He said that Mr. White had two airy rooms over the Chapel, which commanded a view of the circumjacent country, and that he had the liberty of walking round the large open area of the Gaol, which was composed of a beautiful gravel walk; that his was, in short, altogether a very comfortable situation compared to that which I occupy in Ilchester Bastile. He was here before the walls were lowered, and consequently, he saw the place in all its native wretchedness.

Before I proceed with my narrative, I must mention a few circumstances, which it will not be improper to record. At the latter end of this year, 1813, there was a most remarkable fog, which extended fifty or sixty miles round London, accompanied by a severe frost, which lasted six weeks without intermission. The average price of wheat this year was one hundred and seven shillings and ten-pence halfpenny, and the quartern loaf was one shilling and five-pence: these were glorious times for the farmers, whose antipathy to jacobins and levellers, or rather reformers, increased in proportion to the high price of corn and bread. To be sure John Gull was taxed pretty handsomely, but the farmers, at least such of them as looked only to self, always contrived to squeeze their taxes out of the earnings of the labourer. Those, on the contrary, who thought that the labourer had a right to something more than what would barely keep life and soul together, could not cultivate the soil to the same advantage. The supplies voted this year were SEVENTY-SEVEN MILLIONS, FIVE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN THOUSAND, FOUR HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE POUNDS.

While the British arms were crowned with complete success in Spain, the Government was carrying on, both by sea and land, a ruinous and disastrous war in America. The American frigate Chesapeake was taken by the Shannon; but, in return, the Americans captured the Java frigate. The British troops were compelled to evacuate Fort Erie and Fort George, which were taken possession of by the Americans, and ultimately the American fleet took, burnt, sunk, or destroyed the whole of the English fleet on Lake Erie. Every real lover of liberty in England deprecated this war with our brethren of America; but the enemies of liberty now began to boast that they would put down and destroy the principles of Republicanism throughout the world. I always considered the war with America to be a most unjust war; and, although I lamented to hear of the destruction of human lives, and the spilling of human blood, and particularly that of my own countrymen, yet I always wished success to the Americans, who were fighting for their rights and liberties against an invader, who would gladly have reduced them to that state of slavery from which they had emancipated themselves by a glorious and successful struggle. The late harvest was very fine, and the crops were good; corn, therefore, began to fall, and of course the landed interest caught the alarm, and set about sounding the tocsin for a corn bill, to keep up the price of the grain. In consequence of this, the subject was frequently discussed in Parliament. The Ministers professed to disclaim the proposition, but they set their friends, the Country Gentlemen, forward to propose the measure. It was at length settled, that corn should not be imported unless the price of wheat was above eighty shillings per quarter. Although a farmer myself, I always exclaimed against this measure, notwithstanding it did not appear likely that the country would be immediately affected by it, as there was no probability of the price of wheat being much below eighty shillings a quarter during that season.

At this period I was fully occupied in a most laborious and uprofitable speculation. I had taken a farm of nearly four hundred acres. This farm had been occupied by a Major Andrews, a retired militia officer, who had commenced farmer, a business of which he was totally ignorant, and in the pursuit of which he sunk a good fortune; yet when he quitted this farm, or rather when his property and stock were seized and sold under an execution, perhaps the county of Hants could not have produced its equal for foulness and bad condition. I had occupied three thousand acres of land in Wiltshire, and I will venture to say, that there was not half the quantity of couch grass upon the whole of it that I now found upon the cleanest acre on Cold Henly Farm. Couch grass is the most injurious of all weeds, and, in some parts of Wiltshire, it is very appropriately called "the farmer's devil." This farm of Cold Henly was about seven miles from my residence at Middleton Cottage, and therefore I had ample exercise in riding to and fro, and attending all day to the cleaning of the land. The proprietor of the farm was a clergyman, and, as he professed to be very friendly with me, and gave me to understand that he should be happy to continue me as a tenant after my lease was out, I spared neither pains nor expense in cultivating the land, in hopes of hereafter reaping a reward for my labour. In fact, it was absolutely necessary to have the soil perfectly clean and free from all sorts of weeds and grass, to be enabled to cultivate it upon the drill system, as laid down by Tull. I believe that in the course of the first summer I burned forty thousand cart loads of couch, which made as many bushels of ashes for manure. Almost all the land required to be ploughed five or six times, by means of which, and of innumerable draggings and harrowings, and incessant and persevering labour, the farm became, in my hands, altogether as clean as it was foul and overrun with every description of weeds and grass, before I came to it. I was induced to expend a large sum of money in improving this farm, from the promises of the cunning, artful, and deceitful old clergyman, who was the proprietor of it. The buildings, which were very extensive, and miserably dilapidated, I put into complete repair; and, perhaps, altogether I expended on the land and offices three times as much as a common rack-renting farmer would have done. Being fully satisfied that I was greatly benefiting his estate, the parson not only gave his consent to any alteration that I thought proper in the course of husbandry, which the old tenant was bound in his lease to pursue, but he took all occasions to encourage me to do so; and, as my proceedings were so extremely beneficial to his farm, which he never failed to acknowledge, I did not once dream that he would hereafter, for the sake of litigation, pretend to object to it. As this farm was a manor of itself, and was well stocked with game, I had plenty of shooting of all sorts upon it, as well as over the manor of Longparish, over which I also held the deputation.

This year, 1814, was one of the most eventful periods in the history of the world. The first week in January, Dantzic was occupied by the allies, whose grand army passed the Rhine, and occupied Coblentz. The treacherous and dastardly Murat, King of Naples, basely betrayed and deserted his patron, his friend, his benefactor, and his relation, Napoleon, by concluding a treaty with England; and on the 17th he openly joined the allies against France. Of all the despicable, base, and treacherous conduct of the base and dastardly crowned heads, during the whole war, this desertion of Napoleon, by his brother-in-law, Murat, was the most base and dastardly. To be sure, during the whole of this long and bloody war, carried on by the despots and tyrants of the earth, their conduct was one continued exhibition of treachery, falsehood, selfishness, and deception. This abandoned race of Sovereigns, Kings and Emperors, who assume a divine origin, and set up a claim of divine rights, have, by their acts, unequivocally proclaimed to the whole world that no reliance can be placed in their words, their bonds, or their oaths. They have all of them broken the most solemn treaties, and violated the most sacred and binding obligations, without the least regard to truth, to honour, or to honesty. At the very time that the Governments of the different states of Europe have, in high-sounding language, been preaching about national faith, national honour, and national credit; the favoured Ministers of each of them, in conjunction with their masters, have, wherever it suited their interested and corrupt purposes, without the least regard to precept or principle, unblushingly violated and abandoned all national credit, honour, and faith; and have rendered faith, honour, and credit, mere bye-words among nations. If a man in common life were to act in the same unprincipled and dastardly manner as these Sovereign Princes have done, he would be shunned and spurned out of all society. If one of the "lower orders" were to conduct himself in a similar manner, he would be kicked out of the company of the most abandoned frequenters of the lowest brothels and tap-rooms; no man would employ him or have any transaction with him; he would be driven from amongst even the lowest of mankind, and deservedly left to starve, to perish, and to rot upon a dunghill.

The moment that the fortune of war turned against Napoleon, all the royal, mean, cringing, timid, time-serving, contemptible wretches, who had filled up the measure of his glory, and almost worshipped him when he was victorious; those who had partaken of his bounty, and whose whole existence had depended on his smiles; all those that he had elevated to power, and who had reigned by his sufferance, now joined the tide and swelled the torrent that was collected to overwhelm him. Sweden and Denmark having, like others, been bribed by English gold, drawn from the sweat of John Gull's brows, had now joined the allies against France, and the first action upon the territory of Old France took place on the 24th of January, when Mortier was defeated; and on the 27th the army commanded by Napoleon in person, at St. Dizier, in Champagne, was overpowered by numbers, and repulsed with considerable loss. The tyrants of Russia, Austria, and Prussia met at Basil, and soon after all their armies advanced. Blucher and Bernadotte, Crown Prince of Sweden, crossed the Rhine with their numerous hordes, and the armies of France gave way. Nancy, Troyes, Vitry, and Chalons were taken by the allies. But Napoleon having rallied his divisions, defeated first the Russians, and then Blucher, who led his army on to attack Marmont, but he was defeated a second time. Prince Schwartzenburg advanced with the troops under his command direct for Paris, but Napoleon attacked him with an inferior force, beat him, and obliged him to retreat. The battles were now so numerous, and the success was so equally balanced, that it would require a history of itself to recount them. With an army which was never one third as strong as that of the invaders, Napoleon contested every inch of the ground, and fought so bravely and so skilfully, that the issue was for some time doubtful. At length the numerous hordes of the confederated nations of Russia, Austria, Prussia, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, and Bavaria, flushed with their success, pushed on to Paris, to defend which Marshals Marmont and Mortier had but very inadequate means. The assailants, two hundred thousand in number, reached the northern side of Paris on the 29th of March, and on the following day a desperate battle took place. It was not till they had sacrificed fifteen thousand men that the allies could make themselves masters of the posts which the French held in the neighbourhood of Paris. Not disposed to run the risk of another engagement, and especially of the arrival of Napoleon, who was hastening back by forced marches, the coalesced despots were glad to obtain the surrender of the capital, by granting honourable terms to Marmont, who accordingly withdrew with his troops from Paris, which Maria Louisa had already quitted. On the 1st of April all the allied Sovereigns entered that city as conquerors. The Emperors of Russia and Austria, and the King of Prussia, all of whom had been so repeatedly conquered by Napoleon, who had generously, although foolishly, restored two of them, after having conquered them and taken their capitals, now, in return for his generous conduct to them, had the meanness and the cowardice to declare that Napoleon was the only obstacle to the establishment of a peace; upon which he magnanimously, to save the effusion of human blood, did not hesitate to offer his resignation. This was accepted; the French Senate met, and agreed to a provisional Government, till a Constitution could be formed, and they passed a decree on the 2d of April, declaring Napoleon Buonaparte and his family to have forfeited the Imperial Crown. It was agreed to by all the allied Sovereigns that Napoleon should retire to the Isle of Elba, which he was to possess in full sovereignty—that he and Maria Louisa should, for life, retain the titles of Emperor and Empress—that a large revenue should be granted to both of them, and to the Empress the Duchies of Parma, Placentia, and Guastalla, which were to descend to her son. The treaty being thus arranged, on the 4th day of April, 1814, the brave Napoleon signed his abdication of the Crowns of France and Italy. On the 13th the treaty between the allied Powers and Napoleon received the signatures of the contracting parties, and on the 28th of April he embarked at Frejus, in Provence, for the Isle of Elba, in the British frigate the Undaunted.

In the meantime the English army under Lord Wellington had advanced from Spain, invested Bayonne, and passed the Odour. A division under Marshal Beresford entered Bourdeaux. At Toulouse Wellington had a battle, and the dispirited skeleton of an army under Soult was defeated about the time that the news arrived of a cessation of arms.

Although Napoleon had retired, it yet required very considerable address to replace on the Throne of France the Bourbons—a race that was deservedly despised and execrated by the whole French nation, with the exception of the lazy, indolent, rapacious, and profligate priesthood, and a few of the old bigotted nobility. The provisional Government presented to the Conservative Senate a CONSTITUTION, and proposed that Louis, the brother of Louis the Sixteenth, should, on the acceptance of that constitution, be declared King of France. It is time now to turn our eyes towards England, from the affairs of which the reader will remember that I broke off at the period when the Parliament had settled that corn should not be imported, unless the price was above eighty shillings a quarter. Motions were now made to address the Prince Regent, to seize the favourable opportunity to procure from the allied Powers some salutary regulations respecting the slave trade. The country, both in and out of Parliament, was mad drunk with GLORY. The House manifested its intoxication by a profligate and extravagant grant of the public money to Wellington, who was also created a Duke. While this was going on within the walls of Parliament, the farmers were drunk and mad without, and were amusing themselves by burning and hanging Napoleon in effigy. Deputies had already arrived in England, to invite Louis the Eighteenth to return to France. He entered London on the 20th of April, with great pomp and state; he came from his retreat at Hartwell, attended by the Life Guards and many of the King's carriages, and accompanied by our magnanimous conqueror, the Prince Regent. He took up his residence at Grillon's hotel, in Albemarle-street, where be held his Court, and was congratulated by the Lord Mayor (Sir William Domville), and the citizens of London, and also by many of the nobility, all of whom would no doubt have as readily paid their devoirs to a mastiff dog, if he had been called a King. Louis left London in great state, to embark for France, on the 23d of April, and he set sail from Dover on the 24th, in the Royal yacht, and landed at Calais in four hours. His public entry into Paris took place on the 3d of May, and on the 14th of the same month a grand farce, or funeral service, was performed in France for the Kings Louis the Sixteenth and Seventeenth, the Queen and the Princess Elizabeth. Louis was no sooner in possession of power, than he discovered that the Constitution which had been framed, and on his presumed acceptance of which he had been restored, was NOT PRACTICABLE, and that the people of France must submit to receive as a boon, one of his own manufacture. "Put not your trust in Princes." The Marshals had been brought over one by one, and peace was at length settled upon the terms which the Allies dictated. By this treaty France was to keep her ancient boundary, with some additions; the navigation of the Rhine was to be free; the territory of Holland and the Netherlands were to be incorporated and governed by the Stadtholder; Germany was to form a federal Government; and Switzerland to be independent.

While these things were going on in France, the Ministers were not inactive in England. They caused Lord Cochrane, and Colonel Cochrane Johnson, his uncle, to be expelled the House of Commons, for what was called a conspiracy to defraud the Stock Exchange. To punish men for defrauding, or rather playing off a hoax upon a set of swindlers and gamblers in the stocks, was curious enough! The Emperor of Russia and King of Prussia arrived in London on the 7th of June, and the town was illuminated. The Emperor of Russia took up his residence at the Imperial Hotel, in Piccadilly, and the King of Prussia in St. James's Palace. They were received in state at Court, which was held at Carlton House, and the Emperor of Russia and King of Prussia were invested with the Order of the Garter. All the Tom and Molly fools in the country were flocking to London, to see these mighty Sovereigns; they spent their money, and most of them returned disappointed, the fools having expected to see something more than man in a King and an Emperor, and something more than a brute in the dirty old animal Blucher. Nothing else but our new visitors was talked of in town or country. Whatever company you went into, the first question was, "Well, what do you think of the Emperor Alexander? what do you think of Blucher? What! not seen the Emperor, and not seen Marshal Blucher's whiskers?" To hear the females of England, my fair countrywomen, talk of shaking hands with this filthy old beast, and some of them even boasted of his having kissed them, not only disgusted but quite sickened me; and I must own that the scenes I have heard described, which took place at Portsmouth, when they were all there at the great naval fete, made such an unfavourable impression upon my mind, that I have always thought with the utmost contempt of those who participated in these disgusting, revolting orgies. It was all very natural that the time-serving, corrupt, vain, purse-proud Aldermen of London should act as they did; it was very natural that they and their wives and daughters should disgrace themselves as they did; but that my good, handsome, wholesome country-women, should have suffered such a disgusting monster as old Blucher to have slobbered them over and mouselled them with his dirty, stinking whiskers and mustachios, is something so extraordinary and so abhorrent to the character of English women, or, in fact, of any modest woman, that I, as an Englishman, was horror-struck every time I heard the filthy accounts of it. Thank God, none of my family or connections ever disgraced themselves, even by going to see any of these German, Russian, Prussian, or Cossack animals. I had business in London, but I put it off, nay neglected it, because I would not make one of the throng of fools who flocked to grace the triumph of these tyrants, who had been so long waging war against the liberties of mankind, and who had caused the shedding of oceans of human blood, for the sole purpose of gratifying their own malignant desire, to destroy every vestige of liberty and rational freedom upon the face of the globe. During the whole time that these fiends in human form, these enemies and destroyers of the human race, remained in England, I stayed at home; I never spoke of them but with abhorrence and disgust; and as my family felt towards them as I did, they were seldom mentioned at all. I even, as much as possible, avoided having any company at my house, that their blood-stained names might never be introduced. I shall, perhaps, be told by some who read this, that I am inconsistent to express such a horror at blood-stained tyrants, and yet take every opportunity of extolling Napoleon, who was as great a tyrant as any of those whom I condemn. To the unthinking, an explanation is certainly necessary from me; for I fully concur in the opinion that CONSISTENCY is absolutely necessary to form the character of a useful and honourable public man; that amongst the dangerous failings in a public character, inconsistency is the most dangerous. A vacillating, weathercock, changeable being, in the common pursuits, in any pursuits of life, is, to say the least of him, a contemptible creature, one who is generally despised by all classes; but a weathercock in politics, which is the same as a weathercock in principle, is a being not only despicable but most mischievous. To blow hot and to blow cold, in the same breath, or to maintain one opinion to-day and another opinion tomorrow, and the next day to revert to the former opinion, is not so much a proof of a weak head, as a sure proof of a profligate, an abandoned, and a dishonest heart. I do not mean to say that a man cannot alter his opinion without being dishonest; far from it; to maintain this proposition would be to deny the possibility of improvement in the human understanding. But that man is to be dreaded and avoided, who can change his principles, or desert his public duty, from private pique, or selfish, interested motives; such a man would sacrifice not only his principles, but he would sacrifice his dearest friends, nay, a whole nation, to gratify his malignant and selfish passion for revenge; such a passion springs wholly from cowardice; and as a coward is always the most cruel of mortals, such a man, from mere cowardice, is always the most revengeful and remorseless; and he would wade up to his knees in human blood to accomplish his private and selfish ends. Therefore, of all the deadly sins with which public men are accused, oh! save me and protect me, from the misfortune, from the indelible disgrace, of being deservedly pronounced AN INCONSISTENT CHARACTER! I have never praised Napoleon, or at least I have never intended to eulogise him, as a friend of freedom. I have characterised him as a brave and noble-minded man; and the reason why I have been led away sometimes, perhaps, to be too general in my praises and admiration of the man is, not because he was not a tyrant himself, but because I always found him more disposed to tyrannize over mighty tyrants than he was to crush the weak and the unprotected. Possibly all mankind are by nature tyrannical. Take, for instance, the most humane, the most generous, the most sincere lover of liberty, and one who has been the most steady practiser of it—to such a man even as this only give an unlimited, uncontrouled, and unrestricted sway over his fellow-creatures, and ten to one but he becomes an arbitrary tyrant; when, on the other hand, if he had been restrained within due bounds, by means of the proper checks and guards prescribed by a free constitution, he would have been one of freedom's brightest ornaments, one of liberty's safest, staunchest, guardians and protectors. So it was with Napoleon. If the tyrants of Europe had suffered him to remain First Consul of France, surrounded by such men as Carnot, to guard the liberties and rights of Frenchmen, and to controul their ruler's actions, Napoleon possessed all the qualifications for making a mild, liberal, and patriotic, as well as a brave and brilliant ruler. But the despots and tyrants of Europe dreaded such an example; they dreaded the example of freedom which the then constitution conferred upon the people of France. It was not Napoleon's political influence, great as it was, that excited their hatred, but they dreaded the little remaining liberty that the French people possessed, and it was their combined efforts, supported, maintained, and cherished, by the wealth of the people of England, that drove the French nation to submit to the hard and cruel necessity of placing unlimited authority in his hands, and consequently preparing the way for a great tyranny, and compelling him to be a tyrant. My sincere and unchangeable opinion is, that few men ever lived, who, if they had been masters of the same boundless power that Napoleon was, would not have made much more cruel and more arbitrary tyrants than he ever did, and have exercised it more vindictively against the liberties of mankind than he did. My admiration of Napoleon has, therefore, been always by comparison, as contrasted with the sanguinary and remorseless tyrants who were opposed to him; men who had sworn eternal abhorrence of liberty, eternal war against it; men, who, at the time that they professed a hatred of the tyranny of Napoleon, were themselves the greatest tyrants in the universe, and whose sole aim in destroying Napoleon's power was to rivet the chains of slavery upon the inhabitants of the whole civilized world, and who have since sworn upon the altar of the Holy Alliance to maintain an indissoluble union, for the purpose of extinguishing every spark of freedom, wherever it may arise. Napoleon was the enemy, the successful enemy of these tyrants; and under his sway, despotic as it might apparently be, and governed by the excellent code of laws that bears the name of its author, the people of France enjoyed a tenfold greater portion of liberty than any of the people who lived under the protection, or rather who groaned under the pretended forms of law and justice exercised by the hypocritical tyrants who were opposed to him. All these tyrants had made war upon France, because the French had the spirit to overthrow the most execrable tyranny that ever cursed mankind; they made war against French liberty and French principles, before Napoleon was known; he was the child of fortune, who sprung up during the Revolution, and his talent and bravery pointed him out to the people of France as the most likely man successfully to oppose her enemies. He was elevated to unlimited power through the rancour and the malice of those who had sworn in their hearts to restore the hated Bourbons, the Pope, the Devil, and the Inquisition. While he exercised that power he subdued all those who resisted him, and his greatest fault, his greatest crime, was his generosity to the Austrian, Russian, and Prussian despots: having had those enemies to liberty and humanity in his power, it was a crime, an offence, in the eye of God and man, not to annihilate them, and thus secure the human race from the continuance of their arbitrary and brutal domination. Napoleon having conquered them all, restored them all to power, and when they got him into their clutches, the return whichthey made him was, to banish him, to linger out the remainder of his life upon a barren rock, in a noxious and pestilential climate, cut off from the society even of his wife and son. Peace to his manes, for he beat, he humbled, and he subdued, the greatest of tyrants, and he was the author of the Napoleon code, which restrained the power of infamous Judges, and established a real, instead of a mock trial by jury. These are the traits of Napoleon's character, which, as an Englishman, I admire; had I been a Frenchman, I should have adored him. He is dead and gone, and John Gull is beginning to reap the bitter fruits that were sown to procure Napoleon's destruction. John is now grumbling, because he is called upon by the despots to pay the bill, to discharge the expenses which they incurred in dethroning and destroying NAPOLEON, and restoring Louis to the throne of France. I hope and I believe these is not a man in the world who hates and detests tyrants and tyranny more than I do; yet I trust that I may, nevertheless, be permitted to admire certain traits in the character of the brave and murdered Napoleon, without being justly accused of inconsistency. If I am asked whether I should like to live under such a tyrant and such a tyranny as existed in France, during the latter days of Napoleon's reign, I answer NO. But if I must submit to a tyrant, let it be to one that I can look up to, and whose superior qualities I can admire, rather than to a despicable wretch, who has not one noble quality, but, on the contrary, is deserving of contempt, derision, and execration. I have been led into this digression by the recollection of hearing a very pretty little girl say, that she had been kissed by the filthy old beast Blucher, at Portsmouth, where the sceptered tyrants and their whole train had been to view the English fleet and the naval arsenal. This young lady, who was really a very pretty delicate girl, I had always before considered as also a very amiable and a very modest girl; but, after hearing her boast of having been kissed by that dirty old animal, I could never look upon her but with pity, mingled with disgust.

On the 20th of June, peace was proclaimed in London. The country was still intoxicated, or rather insane, with the idea of the GLORY that had been obtained by the downfall of one man, against whom all the despots in Europe had been united, and all the wealth of nations had been squandered during fourteen years. On the 25th, there was a naval review at Portsmouth, to amuse the Royal tyrants; and on the 27th they all departed for Dover, where they embarked on the 28th. On the 7th of July, a mockery or thanksgiving for peace was offered up in these churches, where the tocsin of war had for so many years been sounded by the pious preachers of the Gospel, the servants of the meek and lowly Jesus. On this occasion the Prince Regent went in state to St. Paul's. On the 21st he gave a superb fete to two thousand five hundred persons, and on the 1st of August there was a pompous celebration, on account of the peace, held in Hyde and St. James's Parks, in the latter of which there was a grand display of fireworks; while, still further to amuse the John and Jenny Gulls of the cities of London and Westminster, there was a sham naval engagement got up on the Serpentine River, representing a battle between the British and American fleets. Of course the British fleet was victorious, and the Americans struck their colours, amidst the huzzas and shouts of the family of the Gulls, who, having for nearly a quarter of a century been gulled out of their money to pay the expenses of a sanguinary war, were now gulled out of an additional sum of their money to pay the expenses of a mock naval engagement with the Americans, who were in reality beating the British navy out of their lakes and seas. This was the way in which the peace was celebrated, and at the same time the jubilee to commemorate the accession of the House of Brunswick. It was a considerable drawback upon the pleasure to some of the Royal party, that, at the drawing-room which was held at Court, to receive the Royal visitors, the PRINCESS OF WALES WAS EXCLUDED; and as soon as the rejoicings were concluded, her Royal Highness quitted England, and embarked from Worthing for the Continent.

All this time the old King was confined at Windsor Castle, in some apartments which were padded six feet high; in these, blind and mad, he was suffered to wander about, a melancholy and disgusting object. It is confidently affirmed, however, that he had frequent intervals of reason, in which he was perfectly sensible of his forlorn and wretched fate. During one of these lucid intervals it is said that one of the domestics about his person informed him of the abdication of Napoleon; upon which he put himself in a great passion, and swore "it was a lie." This wretched old man was reduced from the highest pinnacle of grandeur to the most pitiable condition; none of his subjects were admitted to see him for many years; even his children were excluded, except upon particular occasions, and then they were admitted only in the presence of certain individuals. The old Queen had the care of his person, and it is currently reported that she governed his gracious Majesty (it being of course necessary to do so) with considerable harshness.

When one reflects upon the bloody reign of George the Third, and calls to mind the rivers of human gore that were shed during that reign; when one looks back to the period of the American war, which was generally understood to be a war of the King's, more than of his Ministers; when one calls to recollection the commencement of the French war, which, it has been asserted, was waged at his Majesty's particular instance, in opposition to the private opinion of Mr. Pitt; when one looks back on the numerous sanguinary penal statutes that were passed during this King's reign, and the thousands of victims that fell a sacrifice to them; when one contemplates the myriads upon myriads of brave Britons whose lives were offered up as a sacrifice to these Moloch wars, it may well and truly be called the UNFORTUNATE REIGN of King George the Third—which reign was concluded by the King himself being locked up, for many years, in his own castle, a solitary captive, suffering under the complicated and melancholy visitation of blindness and madness: and when one thinks of all this, one may, without being very superstitious, consider the catastrophe as an awful instance of the Divine vengeance levelled at the ruler of a sinful nation.

The story goes that a mouse had contracted a sort of friendly sympathy for the hoary-headed, sightless Royal maniac, and paid him such frequent visits, during his long captivity, that it was at length become quite tame, and would submit to be handled by the unfortunate shadow of a great monarch. The King was very much delighted with this friendly little visitant, and its little antics and gambols assisted him to pass away many a wearisome, sorrowful hour. Unfortunately, the Queen came into the room one day, before the little trembling animal had time to escape to its hiding place. The Queen eyed it before it had yet left the King's hand, and when she quitted the apartment she ordered the attendant to take care and kill that "nausty mose," before she came again. The attendant ventured to state that the poor old King was so exceedingly partial to the mouse, and appeared so much entertained with it, that he was fearful his Majesty would miss it very much, and that the loss of it might make him unhappy. The answer was "kill the nausty mose before I come again!" It was as much as the servant's situation was worth to disobey, and the poor little tame animal, too confident of its former protection, was easily caught and killed! The King, of course, soon missed the little solitary companion of his adversity, and for along time inquired the cause of its absence with the greatest earnestness; and when he found that it never came again, he grieved incessantly, more so than he did for any thing that happened to him during his long and cruel captivity.

So goes the tale, and I, for one, believe it. What a subject this for reflection, what a picture of misery, what an awful monument of fallen greatness! If the King had those lucid intervals of reason which it is said he had, his situation must have been, if possible, infinitely more deplorable than that of the captive of St. Helena; it must have been a thousand times more hopeless than that of the latter; shut up and confined for life in his own palace, by his own family, he must have soon lost all hope: while Napoleon, till he found that his dissolution was approaching, must have always been cheered by the hope, arising from ten thousand chances which could not fail to present themselves to his mind, of his being at length relieved from his iron bondage.

George the Third was the only King I ever saw, and I never wish to see another King. The last time I saw him was when he was getting out of his carriage at the Star, at Andover, on his return from Weymouth; which place he never after visited. His eyesight was then nearly gone, and his attendants were obliged to guide his feet, and to lead him like a child into the Inn. I had known him in his prime, and had frequently hunted with him. At the time when I saw him at Andover, he had indeed sadly fallen off, and his signature to all documents was effected by a stamp, some one directing his hand. All Acts of Parliament, all Commissions, all Death-warrants, and all Pardons, were for a long time signed in this manner. He who had signed more death-warrants than any mortal that ever breathed, and who could spare or kill human beings by the mere dash of his pen; alas! alas! he, once so powerful, could not now even save the life of a poor mouse. He who, as a mere matter of course, and perhaps without giving the subject a thought, had put his fiat on the black scrolls which ordered hundreds upon hundreds of his fellow creatures to be sent to their long homes, and executed in cold blood; he now grieved and lamented, and cried like a child, at the death of a mouse. I would have had the Emperor Alexander, the King of Prussia, and all the Royal Visitors, go down to Windsor, to be eye-witnesses of the "ills that (Royal) flesh is heir to:" they should have been reminded, by a personal interview with this poor old maniac, to what a wretched state it was possible even for the greatest monarch to be reduced, by the hand of Providence. That all-wise and just Providence, the same Power that permitted the Emperor NAPOLEON to be sent a prisoner to St. Helena; the same Power that permitted HENRY HUNT to remain a captive in Ilchester Bastile, for TWO YEARS AND SIX MONTHS, commanded also that GEORGE THE THIRD should, after having LOST HIS SIGHT, and been DEPRIVED OF HIS REASON, be confined as a solitary prisoner in his own palace, for many of the latter years of his existence. The Lord's will be done!

During the whole time that these ridiculous freaks were going on in London, and that John Gull and his family were running stark mad with joy and glory, each bellowing out, whenever or wherever you met him, have you not seen the Emperor? have you not seen the King? have you not seen Blucher with his whiskers? surely you have seen the Don Cossack? &c. &c. &c.; during this time I remained quietly and snugly at Middleton Cottage, occupied in fishing or looking after my farm, and most sincerely lamenting the folly of my countrymen and countrywomen; and whenever I had an opportunity, I did not fail to remonstrate with them on their ridiculous and preposterous conduct, and to assure them that the hour would come when they would be heartily ashamed of it, and would have cause and leisure for bitter repentance. With many this time has arrived, with others it is fast approaching. So far was I from ever making one of the number of fools who ran after these sceptred despots, that, when some of them were travelling post by the house where I was staying, I retired into a back room, in order to avoid the possibility of seeing them; always saying, when the question was put to me, that "I thanked God I had seen one King, and was so well satisfied, that I never wished to see another." A single sample was quite enough for me. One of my great political friends had expressed the same sort of disgust at the idea of running after these foreign Sovereigns, and he swore most roundly and lustily, that none of his family should stir an inch to see them. It turned out, however, that he did not keep his word—but whether his breach of it arose from "the grey mare being the better horse," or from his being himself overcome by a childish curiosity, I cannot tell; perhaps a little of both prevailed; at any rate I heard that my friend and all his family went to Portsmouth, to see the Royal sight, and get a squint at Blucher's whiskers and mustachios. My friend and his family swelled the number of those who suffered at Portsmouth—"ninny nanny, one fool makes many!" It was now all glory, all joy, and all seeming prosperity with John Gull, every thing was military! As a proof that it could not well be otherwise, let us look to a return, which was presented to the House of Commons, of the number of officers in the British army in the pay of John, which return was as follows: Field Marshals, 5—Generals, 81—Lieutenant Generals, 157—Major Generals, 221—Colonels, 152—Lieutenant-Colonels, 618—Majors, 612—Captains, 2960—Lieutenants, 4725—Ensigns, 2522—amounting in the whole to the enormous number of TWELVE THOUSAND AND FIFTY-FOUR officers! What think you of this, John Gull? Here is a larger army of officers than the whole number of military that was thought sufficient by our ancestors to be kept up during the time of peace. Yes, the officers alone, at the time to which I allude, actually out-numbered the whole of what our peace establishment used to be.

One of the precious effects of the downfall of Napoleon was the restoration of the bigotted, despicable tyrant, Ferdinand the Seventh, to the throne of Spain; and one of his first acts was to restore the hellish Inquisition, with all its horrors, which had been abolished during the sway of the French, and which had also been suppressed by the Cortes. The amiable Pope Pius the Seventh being restored to the see of Rome, he performed his part in the scene of mummery and tyranny, by issuing a Bull for the restoration of the order of the Jesuits. So it will be clearly seen that the canting Boroughmongering Protestant Parliament of England, while it pertinaciously refused to grant emancipation to the Catholics in Ireland, contrived to restore the Pope, Popery, the Inquisition, the Jesuits, and every species of superstition and intolerance upon the Continent!

About this time two fanatics, of the names of Johanna Southcote and Hannah More, were much followed in the West of England. Somersetshire could boast of possessing two female saints, Mrs. Hannah More and Mrs. Johanna Southcote, at the same time; which of the two was the greatest imposter it would be very difficult to decide, although the former appears to have borne off the palm of successful fraud and imposition. Miss Hannah, who, in her younger days, had been a very frolicsome lass, became all at once converted into a saint, and set up for a severe and rigid moralist; and she had the merit of establishing the gang generally known by the title of the SAINTS, amongst our politicians. In her train she had the Sidmouths, the Wilberforces, the Babingtons, the Dickensons, and others of that puritannical cast; although it has been whispered, but that, of course, must be a calumny, that, from the well-known character of some of these gentry, who were very frequent in their visits, the buxom dame (who had now assumed the title of Mrs.) contrived, like the friars of old, to indulge in the gratification of those passions to which it is said real saints are not prone. Some of her neighbours were in consequence so ill-natured as to say, that her conversion was not sincere, but that it was a mere cloak to cover certain practices. But my readers are aware that we must not believe all that the world says. Mrs. Johanna was an illiterate woman, whose fanaticism was carried to full as high a pitch as that of Mrs. More; but as her doctrine did not suit "the powers that be" quite so well as the doctrine of the other did, she could not boast of having Ministers of State and many of the Nobility as her disciples, although amongst her numerous followers she did not want for men of talent and education. Dr. Ash, under whose care the VERY VENERABLE JUDGE BEST received his education, was a staunch disciple of Johanna's, and it is said the venerable Judge himself at times discovered a little hankering after the prophetess; but whether his attachment was to her person or her principles, is not clearly decided.

During this period the British troops were carrying on a marauding, petty warfare in America, and on the 24th of August they burnt the newly-built, half-finished city of Washington, and magnanimously destroyed the city printing-press, and threw the types into the streets, that they might be trampled under the horses feet. England being at peace with all the rest of the world, the Government had nothing else to do but to direct its whole force against the Americans, both by sea and land, and I believe it was Mr. Charles Yorke, the First Lord of the Admiralty, who put forth a speech in his place in Parliament, to the following effect:—"That now Napoleon was deposed there was another example of democratic revolution, and it was necessary to depose James Madison, the President of the United States of America." This speech was hailed and cheered by a great number of the Members of the Honourable House, many of whom seemed to think that it was no very difficult matter to carry it into effect. But they reckoned without their host; for the news having arrived of the total defeat of the British fleet, on Lake Champlain, matters began to wear a different aspect, and the boasters were compelled to draw in their horns a little. Sir James Yeo had the command of the English fleet upon the Lakes, and Commodore Downie, in the Confiance, of 38 guns, had the command of the British squadron upon Lake Champlain, supported by Captain Pring, in the Linnet, of 16 guns; Lieutenant M'Ghee, in the Chub, of 11 guns; and Lieutenant Hix, in the Finch, of 11 guns. Lieutenant Raynham and Lieutenant Dual had the command of twelve gun-boats. The American squadron was commanded by Commodore M'Donough, in the Saratoga, of 26 guns; Captain Harley, in the Eagle, of 22 guns; and Captain——, in the Ticonderoga, of 18 guns, with 1 sloop, and 10 gun-boats. The English fleet had 90 guns and 12 gun-boats; the American fleet had 83 guns and 10 gun-boats—so that the British fleet had the superiority in number of guns and weight of metal. The American fleet was anchored opposite an American battery, commanded by General M'Coomb, at the head of 800 men. The British troops, under the command of Sir George Prevost, amounting to thirteen thousand men, were all drawn up on shore ready to take the battery, if the English fleet had succeeded in beating the Americans. It was communicated to Sir George Prevost that the English fleet would attack the Americans that day. Commodore Downie called all his officers on board, and communicated to each the order of battle, and his last words were, "Lieutenant M'Ghee will lead into action; let it be close quarters, MUZZLE to MUZZLE." He doubled a point of the American coast with a fair wind, and came in full view of the enemy lying at anchor; the signal was then given to bear up, and commence the action. Mr. M'Ghee carried in the Chub, of 11 guns, and placed her gallantly close alongside of the Eagle, of 22 guns, agreeable to orders, having sustained the fire of the gun-boats as he passed; he blazed away at the enemy and received their fire in return, till he himself was wounded in three places, and every man out of his complement of sixty was either killed or wounded, with the exception of six. In fact, the Chub was made into a cullender, and completely disabled, before he struck her colours. The same fate attended the Confiance, the Linnet, and the Finch, the latter of which grounded on a reef of rocks about the middle of the engagement. The gun-boats appear absolutely to have run away. Thus was the British fleet captured by an inferior fleet of the Americans. Commodore Downie was killed by a ball from the American gun-boats very early in the contest, and the Confiance is said to have struck her colours without coming fairly into action; the result was, the British fleet was lost, and the officers were tried by a Court Martial. All the others were promoted, and the gallant Lieutenant M'Ghee was reprimanded for taking his ship prematurely into action. This is a pretty specimen of British justice in the naval department, and a melancholy example of the reward bestowed upon the gallant officers and men who fought our battles and maintained the British character.

On the 1st of November was opened the Congress at Vienna, where Lord
Castlereagh, as the representative of the King of England, attended,
and where it is generally believed he played second fiddle to Prince
Metternich.

In consequence of the peace, and the Bank of England having drawn in a considerable quantity of its paper, preparatory to the payment in specie, which, as the law stood, they were compelled to at the end of six months after the peace had been proclaimed; in consequence of this, and there having been a good crop of wheat and a fair harvest, the average price of wheat during the year was seventy-four shillings per quarter, and the price of the quartern loaf was reduced to one shilling. Notwithstanding this, many riots took place in Nottinghamshire and Leicestershire, by the Luddites, who continued to set the laws at defiance, and to break the frames in the most lawless and unwarrantable manner. Their hostility was directed against all sorts of machinery, but particularly against the looms and frames used for weaving and knitting in the stocking trade.

The supplies voted this year amounted to seventy-five millions six hundred and twenty-four thousand five hundred and seventy-two pounds. By a return, it appeared that the amount of Bank of England notes in circulation was between twenty-eight and twenty-nine millions, and that the number of private banks was seven hundred and twenty-four.

The Parliament had met late in the fall of 1814, but little was done of importance, except passing the address, and a Bill called "the Preservation of Peace Bill," to put down by force the disturbances in Ireland. The state of Ireland had become very alarming, as the poor Irish were suffering the greatest privations from bad government and severe laws; which laws were exercised with the greatest severity, to support an infamous tithe system and a national church, the most profligate, the most expensive and rapacious that ever existed; a church in every respect hostile to the religion of four-fifths of the inhabitants, and a priesthood proud, overbearing, and intolerant.

In the higher circles it was now confidently given out that the Princess Charlotte, the heir apparent to the throne of England, was to be married to the hereditary Prince of Orange; but the disposition of her Royal Highness had been greatly soured by the infamous treatment of her poor mother, and, conceiving that this said young Dutch upstart had not paid her mother proper respect and attention, but that he was more disposed to fawn and cringe to the will of her father, it is said that she dismissed him from her presence, and peremptorily refused to marry him. This drove her Royal Papa into a great passion, and our magnanimous Prince Regent went suddenly to Warwick House, the residence of his daughter, and discharged all her servants. She, however, proved herself a legitimate Guelph, in obstinacy, at any rate; for she refused to see the young Orange afterwards. This young lady had secured the affections of every honourable and unprejudiced person in the kingdom, by her undeviating attachment to her mother, and she gained the hearts of thousands by her firm and undaunted opposition to the arbitrary mandates of her father, with respect to that mother.

The Parliament met very early after the adjournment, and the first Act they passed was to renew the restriction of cash payments by the Bank of England; another violation of a positive pledge of the Honourable House, another gross breach of faith committed upon the people by a corrupt Parliament, which had solemnly declared by an act that the Bank should be compelled to pay their notes in specie at the end of six months after peace was made.

Accounts were now brought to England that Napoleon was reigning in full sovereignty at Elba, and all the corrupt writers in the Ministerial and daily press were sneering at the idea of his fancied sovereignty. But by the solemn treaty of Paris, Napoleon was as much an Emperor as he ever had been as much a Sovereign as the Emperor of Russia; and, by the law of nations, quite as much entitled to make war or peace with other powers as was the King of England, the King of France, or any other Sovereign. But these writers, as I have before said, were daily ridiculing his sovereignty, and holding his power in derision. But it will be seen hereafter, that it is a very dangerous thing to treat with contempt the hostility of an enemy, however weak that enemy may be. In the meantime Louis the Desired, the contemptible King of France, decreed that the property of the Buonaparte family should be sequestred; the old Bourbon tyranny was making the most rapid strides; the press was much more enslaved than under the reign of Napoleon; disturbances had broken out in many parts of France; yet such was the dreadful, enthralled state of the press, that no one dared to mention them, nor were they ever known but by the proclamations of the King, to restrain and repress them. The finances of France were, nevertheless, in a flourishing state; their trade was fast reviving, and every means that ingenuity could devise were resorted to, to induce the people to feel for royalty; and, amongst other things, a solemn funeral for the late King and Queen of France took place, which was conducted with great pomp and ceremony.

In America, the English were routed at New Orleans, by General Jackson, who, with an undisciplined militia, and very inferior numbers, caused great slaughter amongst the British troops; in fact, the number killed in the English ranks amounted to more than the whole number of the American troops, so expert were the riflemen, and so superior were the abilities of the American General Jackson. This was a death-blow to the hopes of the English, for the bravery of the Americans appeared to be invincible; they were in truth fighting for Liberty, for themselves and their country, and not for any despot or any despotism. This fine spirit gained them a peace, which it may fairly be said they fought for, bled for, and ultimately obtained by conquest; and James Madison remained, in spite of all the threats of deposing him, President of the only free people upon the habitable globe. Thus, as I hope and trust, have they secured and placed upon an imperishable basis, the liberties and just rights of their people. They had a right to be proud of their success. England, at peace with all the rest of the world, carried on a war with America; yet the latter, single-handed, not only met and contended with, but repelled the mighty power of her adversary, and by the equity of her cause, and the bravery of her citizens, she conquered a peace, in spite of the threats of England's haughty, bullying, ignorant, and intolerant Ministers, who had declared that the right of search was a sine qua non which must form the basis of any negotiation. Ultimately, however, these very Ministers were glad to make peace with the Americans, by saying nothing about the sine qua non, the right of search, for which they had gone to war. England went to war almost solely to maintain the right of search; the Americans went to war to resist that right; and England having made peace, and suffered the right of search to be passed over in silence, the Americans have gained their object, and the English have lost the point which was the cause of the war.

On the 17th of January in this year, 1815, a Catholic meeting was held in Dublin, at which it was determined to petition Parliament for an unqualified emancipation.

The price of wheat and all sorts of grain having been reduced, the great landholders had been for some time raising a cry, that the landed interest was in danger, and that the farmers would be ruined unless some law was made to keep up the price of grain to the war standard, which, on an average, was from twelve to fifteen shillings a bushel. The Ministers had been pressed hard by the great landholders, in both Houses of Parliament, to bring forward such a measure; but, knowing and feeling the unpopularity to which it would expose them, they had, from time to time, put them off, and they appeared to discountenance any such proposition, whenever it was mentioned in the House. At length, however, the Ministers gave way to the urgent demands of the landholders, although apparently with great reluctance and considerable doubts. In several districts the landholders urged the farmers and their tenants to petition the House for a Corn Bill. Amongst the number of these landholders, the most active and the most forward to promote such petitions in Wiltshire and the West of England, was Mr. John Benett, of Pyt-House, near Shaftesbury, the present Member for that county. Committees of both Houses of Parliament were appointed to inquire into the state of agriculture, for the purpose of ascertaining what measures it were necessary to take, or what Act to pass to keep up the price of corn, or rather to keep up the price of the quartern loaf to the war standard. Mr. John Benett was one of the witnesses who volunteered to be examined at great length before both of these Committees, that of the House of Lords as well as that of the House of Commons.

As soon as the evidence given before these Committees was published, I rode over to Botley, to my friend Cobbett, to urge him to take a more decided part against the measure; for I thought I discovered in his Register a leaning towards a Corn Bill, or rather the doctrine was maintained that it was necessary to protect the farmer as well as the merchants and other trades. When I arrived, I found him endeavouring, by arguments the most powerful, to shew the injustice of leaving the farmer open to the competition of foreign growers, who could raise the grain at half the expense which must be incurred by the native growers. Perhaps this was said to ascertain my sentiments upon the subject, which I immediately, and in the most unequivocal manner, stated to be in direct opposition to the measure. I argued against the injustice of making the mechanic and the labourer pay a war price for his bread in time of peace, and I maintained that it was the duty of the farmer and the landholder to petition for a reduction of taxation, so as to enable him to compete with the foreign farmer, instead of petitioning for a monopoly by his exclusion. In five minutes my friend Cobbett was either convinced of the propriety and justice of my remarks, or at any rate he professed to be so; and he concurred with me in the necessity of calling upon the public to come forward to oppose so injurious and ruinous a measure as that which was contemplated. I pointed out to him the fallacy and the hypocrisy of those who pretended to be anxious for the good of the farmer, and we both very soon came to this conclusion, that a Corn Bill would be ultimately injurious to the farmer, and that the only result of it would be, to raise the price of the staff of life, and to grind the face of the poor, to enable the farmer to continue to pay high taxes, for the support of an unconstitutional large standing army in the time of peace, and to enable the lazy sinecurist and the unmerited pensioner to wallow in wealth and riot in luxury, drawn from the sweat of the poor man's labour. From this time forward Mr. Cobbett took the most decisive part in opposition to every movement of the Corn Bill gentry.

Sir Henry Parnell, an Irish Member, ONE OF THE OPPOSITION, brought forward the measure in the House of Commons, and I believe he was Chairman of the Committee. I will now put upon record a few questions and answers, extracted from the evidence of the aforesaid John Benett, Esq. of Pyt-House, voluntarily given before the Committee of the House of Lords, in favour of a Corn Bill, which evidence was printed by order of the Right Honourable House:

The Evidence of JOHN BENETT, Esq. of Pyt-House, voluntarily given lefore the Committee of the House of Lords, in favour of the Corn Bill.

You hold a considerable quantity of land in your own hands?—I do.

What number of acres?—I believe upwards of 2000 acres, in various parishes in the western part of Wiltshire, about twelve miles from Warminster.—My residence is Pyt-House, in Wiltshire.

Have you any general information about the state of that quarter of the country, or can you speak only to the particular district in which you reside?—I can speak to the county of Wilts; for I am in the habit of riding through it very often, and am in the habit of meeting with the farmers in the county, from having been for some years a farmer, and am now President of the Agricultural Society of that county. Can you give the Committee any account of the increase and alterations that have taken place in the value and prices of the different articles of produce from land, and the expenses of cultivation, and from what period?—I can speak to nearly twenty years. The price of wheat has varied so very materially, it is more easily ascertained from the returns of the markets than from recollection.

In the present state of the improved cultivation of those parts of the county of Wilts with which you are acquainted, can you state the various prices which it will be necessary for the farmer to receive for the different species of grain he rears, in order to remunerate him for his expenses?—Taking the taxes, the price of labour, and all outgoing expenses of the farmer as they now stand, and the rents at which land has lately been let, I do not conceive the farmer can possibly raise wheat, and remunerate himself with ten per cent. interest upon his capital, under 12_s_. a bushel, or 96_s_. per quarter.

If the farmer was to receive only 75_s_. per quarter, would he be capable of paying any rent at all?—No, he certainly would not be able to pay his rent, and get his ten per cent. upon his capital.

Is land generally let in Wiltshire upon the supposition that wheat will stand at 96_s_. and barley at half the price of wheat?—I believe that lands have been let even at a higher calculation than that; I am in the habit of valuing estates of my own as well as of others, and of giving opinions to my friends; and I have always calculated upon 12_s_. a bushel, and I believe surveyors do the same; many of the estates let by survey let at a much greater calculation, or rather, I believe, without any.

Do you believe there is any surveyor who practises the surveying of estates for the purpose of fixing rents, who proceeds on the calculation of wheat being at a higher price than 12_s_. per bushel, or 96_s_. a quarter?—I believe no estates have been let in Wiltshire, by our first-rate surveyors, on a calculation of more than 12_s_. per bushel, or 96_s_. per quarter, for the last eight years, since the high price of corn and the competition for estates.

If wheat should be at 80_s_. and other grains at a proportionate price, do you believe the farmers would continue in the cultivation of their land at the expense of the present mode of culture?—Certainly not; I think less wheat would be sown, and less money would be expended in the cultivation of land. From your knowledge of the general ideas of farmers, do you believe that the same opinion you have expressed to the Committee upon this subject is generally entertained?—With respect to renting farmers I believe the same opinion prevails with those who have leases they cannot get rid of; but where they have not leases, or their landlords will permit them to surrender them, they are not under the same alarm, because they will quit their farms altogether, unless they can get a reduction in their rent in proportion to the price of corn; but no reduction of rent will answer as it stands now, it will exhaust the whole rent.

Do you know of any farmers who have actually withdrawn their capital from agriculture?—No, I do not; but a tenant of my own surrendered a beneficial agreement, of which there were seven years to come. I gave my tenants notice that I would not promise to sink their rents, but that they might surrender their leases altogether.

At what value of wheat did you compute the rent which the tenant paid you under the lease, of which only one year has run?—I made no particular computation for that; I have been in the habit of making valuations of my own farms; I have generally taken it at 12_s_.; I could have got more for this estate, it being a particularly valuable farm; I made no particular calculation as to this farm. I have another tenant, whose term of seven years only has expired; I expected to have raised his rent nearly 400_l_. per annum, upon a rent of 870_l_.; I have not raised him a farthing; I dare not propose to raise him; I think he would quit me if I should attempt it; and I doubt my power of letting it, if he should quit me. I directed my surveyor to look over his farm, and let me know the price he thought I might put upon it, and if he thought it would bear raising, to let me know; and I have not heard from him, though he looked over it about two months ago.

How long had he possessed it at the rent of 870_l_.?—Only seven years.

At what rate did you calculate the value of wheat at that time?—At 12_s_. a bushel.

At what would you have calculated the price of wheat if you had raised it?—It is proper I should explain that; I did not in fact fix the rent; I agreed he should take it at the Commissioners' valuation, it being then just laid in under the act of inclosure.

Do you know whether the Commissioners fixed the rent, calculating wheat at 12_s_. a bushel?—I do not; but I told him at the time I considered the Commissioners' valuation would be a certain price; that if the valuation was lower than the price, he should have it at the lower rate; the Commissioners' valuation exceeded my price, therefore he has it at the price named by me, though I thought it too little.

Is it a farm which requires the application of much capital to render it productive?—Yes, it does.

When you had in your own mind settled that you would get an advanced rent of 400_l_. a year, what did you take the price of wheat at in forming that calculation?—I conceived wheat was higher than 12_s_. a bushel, not more than 13_s_. a bushel. I have not valued this farm particularly at 400_l_. a year more, but I felt that the farm was worth 400_l_. a year more than I had let it at.

You have said that at the time the Commissioners valued it, you believe they proceeded on the idea that wheat was worth 12_s_. a bushel?—No, I do not know what calculation the Commissioners made; they were three eminent surveyors.

When it passed in your mind that you would get 400_l_. a year more, was not that in consequence of your having an opinion that the Commissioners had fixed the land at a lower rent than if wheat were calculated at 12_s_. a bushel?—Certainly it was.

And your idea of getting 1270_l_. was in consequence of what passed in your mind as to wheats being fairly to be valued at 12_s_. a bushel?—Certainly it was.

Having stated your knowledge to be general over the county of Wilts, and having stated your calculation of wheat to be at 12_s_. for the last seven years, do you apply that to the farms within your own immediate knowledge, or over the county of Wilts generally?—I believe that generally over the county of Wilts, 12_s_. is the lowest calculation which has been made by surveyors in letting land.

If a free importation should take place, how many rents do you think the farmer will be able to make then?—It depends entirely upon what effect the free importation may have upon the price of corn; taking wheat at 8_s_. a bushel, and taking all agricultural expenses to stand as they now do, I conceive the farmer with an average crop; cannot pay any rent at all. You conceive a proprietor farming his own estate, with a competent share of skill and capital, would be a loser if the price of wheat was 8_s_. a bushel?—Yes, I do.

Has any proportion of the value of daily labour been made up to the labourers out of the poor's rates?—Yes, it has; the weekly income of every family is made up to the gallon loaf and three-pence per head. Supposing the father to earn 9_s_. one of the children 3_s_. another 2_s_. and another 1_s. od_. the magistrate conceiving they are able to earn that, or the overseer being willing to give them the money for their labour, whatever the deficiency is, is made up to the amount I have stated. I must explain, that I give this evidence as a magistrate more than as a farmer; for I act for a very large district, and am in the habit of making this order. The gallon loaf per head per week is what we suppose sufficient for the maintenance of every person in the family for the week; and the 3_d_. is for clothes; and if the parish think proper to find clothes, the 3_d_. is deducted. This practice goes through all the western parts of Wiltshire, and I believe throughout the county.

Have you, from your situation as a Magistrate, any connexion and knowledge of the condition of the lower class of manufacturers?—I have; I live within nine miles of a great number of them, and act for several manufacturing parishes as a Magistrate.

Can you state the average consumption of a family?—The manufacturers live better than the farming labourers, but they need not live better; when they come to the parishes they have only the same allowance from us as paupers of every class.

Do you expect the labouring manufacturers will consume a greater proportion of farm produce than they have hitherto done?—I conceive greater waste will be made of farm produce when it is at a low price than when it is at a high price, and, in fact, they must consume more: they live upon wheat instead of barley; they lived upon barley formerly, and now they live upon wheat, and eat fewer potatoes probably.

Do you think it would be possible for landlords to reduce their rents so as to enable the tenant to make a fair profit, according to the present price of corn?—No; I do not think it is in the power of landlords, it must depend upon the riches of the landlord; but if he reduces the whole rent upon some farms, it would not be sufficient according to the present price of corn; taking the present price of wheat at eight shillings a bushel, and all other grain following the same scale.

The price is high abroad at present?—It is.

The case of a peace with America, and of our receiving corn from thence, do not you conceive, in case of a great influx of corn from the continent, the price must fall considerably?—Certainly, as the price falls upon the continent, it will fall here, if free importation is permitted; but I would wish to be understood here as to the price of corn, it must very much depend upon the crop of the year, because I do not believe it possible to import sufficient to feed the people of Great Britain, and very much must depend upon the quantity of corn grown; and my own belief is, that the price of corn will be very high indeed in three years, higher than it has probably been known for the last ten years. I think the importation is an uncertain sort of supply; there may be a bad crop upon the continent, or a thousand interruptions may stop the importation.

On what is your opinion founded, that it will be at a high price?—Because a great deal less wheat will be sown in consequence of the low prices; I believe the defalcation in the number of acres sown will be very great indeed.

Do you think that the present rents are the cause of the tenants not being able to obtain a fair profit, corn being at eight shillings a bushel; or does it arise from the price of labour, the amount of poors' rates, taxes, and other expenses?—I do not myself think the rents are too high, taking them at a general average; in fact, I do not think the gentlemen of landed property can now live at the present rents with the same comforts their forefathers have done on the same estates; that if the rents are to be lowered, the gentlemen of landed property must be sunk in their scale in society.

Do you conceive that the existing rents bear a greater proportion to the produce than formerly?—No; not so great by a great deal; I conceive that rents have not risen in the same proportion that all the articles of life, which we are compelled to have as country gentlemen, have risen.

The following requisition was published in the Salisbury and Winchester
Journal, on the 2d of January, 1815, calling a public meeting of
the landholders and farmers of the county of Wilts, to be held at
Warminster, on the 6th day of January following:—

WE, the undersigned Land-Owners and Occupiers of Land, in the county of Wilts, conceiving it to be impossible that the British farmers should ever contend on fair or equal terms with foreign growers of corn, even in British markets, as long as the former shall have to bear such heavy charges of rates, taxes, assessments, and other expenses attendant on their cultivation, of which the latter know nothing: Being also convinced that the farmers of this kingdom have already suffered severely, even to the ruin of many of those who have had small capitals; and also that the evil is fast approaching to the land-owners; and must (if no relief be given to the agriculturists) evidently fall on the country at large: Feeling it also to be a duty incumbent on as many of us as are landlords, to exert ourselves for the protection of our tenants, and on us all jointly to exert ourselves, for our mutual protection:—Do hereby give Notice, That we intend to meet at the Lord's Arms Inn, at Warminster, in the county of Wilts, on Friday the 6th day of January next, at 12 o'clock at noon, for the purpose of considering of the propriety of preparing Petitions to the two Houses of Parliament, on behalf of ourselves and others; and we invite all Land-Owners, and Occupiers of Land, in the county of Wilts, who may wish to unite with us in forwarding this our object, to meet us on that day, and to co-operate with us, in adopting such measures as may then and there be thought necessary, for our mutual relief and preservation.

Dated this 30th of December, 1814. (Signed.)

Thomas Grove. John Benett. James Everard Arundel.
George South. J.H. Penruddocke. Alexander Powell.
H. Linton. T. Davis, Jun. S. Card.
John Davis. J.E. Strickland. G.J. Kneller.
John Gordon. H. Biggs. J. Slade.
William Smith. Robert Smith. Richard Rickword.
Henry Hubbard. Robert Candy. John Neat.
John Pearce. George Young. James Burges.
Richard Pocock. James Pearce. William Glass.
Robert Payne. J. Howel. John Folliott.
William Marsh. Thomas Chandler. Thomas Burfitt.
John Barter. John Phillips. Henry Phillips.
Thomas Burge. John Mitchell. J.C. Burbidge.
John Willis. Robert Rumsey. James Chaiman.
E.F. Seagram. James Goddard. John Goddard.

This was short notice, as many people of the county of Wilts did not get the Salisbury paper till the 3d or 4th of January. In fact, I myself, who was living in Hampshire, did not get it till the 4th in the evening, nor should I have seen it at all, if a friend had not sent it to me. As I had a small freehold in the county of Wilts, and also occupied a considerable farm at Upavon, in that county, I made up my mind, within five minutes after I saw the above advertisement, that, although I was living at a distance of nearly forty miles from the scene of action, I would make one at this intended snug meeting. I mounted my gig the next day (the 5th), and drove as far as Deptford Inn. I had heard of a Mr. Gourley, who lived at Deptford, upon an estate of the Duke of Somerset's; and, as he had acquired the character of being at least an eccentric, if not an independent man, I called at his house with the intent to have some conversation with him upon the proposed meeting. Fortunately, however, he was from home, or I might have been hampered with a very troublesome and a very disagreeable companion; for I afterwards found that Mr. Gourley, though perhaps a very well-meaning person, was so flighty, so confused, and so opinionated in his wild and visionary notions, that he was a very dangerous man to have any thing to do with; at any rate, he was a person that it was impossible to go hand in hand with. I slept at Deptford Inn, and proceeded through Heytesbury to Warminster in the morning, calling upon my old friend Cousens in my way thither; I knew that he was staunch to the back-bone, and that, in case he was at home, I should be sure of his support to second any amendment that I might find it necessary to propose. When I drove up to his door at Heytesbury, I was surprised to find all the window-shutters closed, although it was nearly ten o'clock. Upon hailing him, he popped his head out of the chamber window with a night-cap on, in one of the severest hoar frosty mornings I ever beheld. I told him where I was going, and he promised to follow me instantly, without fail; and he kept his word, for he overtook me upon his grey poney before I reached the town.

When I drove into Warminster, the town was as still and as quiet as possible, without any of those bustling indications which I had been accustomed to witness at a public meeting. While I was taking my breakfast at the Lord's Arms Inn, some of the requisitionists made their appearance, and they were soon followed by the remainder, and a considerable number of the landholders of the county, amongst whom, as I sat at an up-stair window, I recognised Mr. Wyndham, of Dinton, the High Sheriff; Paul Methuen, Esq. one of the Members for the county; and the said John Benett, surrounded by a few of the requisitionists. I sat very quiet while my friend Cousens reconnoitred their forces, and communicated their arrival. At length we saw them all proceed to the Town-hall, perhaps twenty-five or thirty of them at the outside—as pretty a little snug cabal as ever was mustered upon any occasion. They passed my window and went smirking along, little dreaming that they should meet with the slightest interruption or opposition to their measures, which were all ready cut and dry, and safely deposited in the pocket of the celebrated attorney, Mr. Charles Bowles, of Shaftesbury. As the train passed up the street, the town's-people took little other notice of them than by now and then eyeing them askance with a jealous look. I had remained the whole time snug in my room, without one soul of them knowing or suspecting that I was in Warminster; but, as soon as I saw them all safely housed, out I bolted into the street, and made my way after them. As we walked up the street, my friend Cousens intimated to two or three of the shopkeepers who I was, and the news flew like wildfire round the town, that Mr. Hunt was arrived, and gone up to the Hall. As, therefore, something like fair discussion was likely to take place, the said meeting, which, ten minutes before, excited no interest whatever amongst the town's-people, was, in a very short space of time, crowded by the shopkeepers, and attended by almost every respectable man in the town. When I entered the Hall it was very evident that I was not a very welcome guest, and that I had not been expected by any one. As, however, I was a landholder of the county, and one of those who were invited, it was impossible to make any objection, as I was as much entitled to be present as any man in the room. Mr. Grove, whose name stood at the head of the requisition, was called to the chair. This gentleman, who is descended from one of the most ancient families in the county, having shortly stated the object of the meeting, Mr. Benett arose, and, after some wriggling and twisting, addressed them. As the following report, which was published in Keene's Bath Journal, on the Sunday following, contains a brief outline and an impartial account of the proceedings, I will insert it verbatim, as it was afterwards copied into almost every newspaper in the kingdom:

On the 6th of January a Meeting of "Landholders and Occupiers of Land," was held at the Town-Hall, Warminster, convened by public advertisement, signed by John Benett, Esq. of Pyt-House, (the gentleman who gave such long and strong evidence before the Committees of both Houses of Parliament in favour of the Corn Bill), and several other respectable land-owners and farmers of the county of Wilts, to take into consideration the propriety of presenting Petitions to both Houses of Parliament, on behalf of the proprietors and occupiers of land. Thomas Grove, Esq. of Fern, one of the gentlemen who called the meeting, having taken the chair, Mr. Benett addressed them at a very considerable length in favour of a petition that he submitted for their adoption, expressive of the serious injury already sustained by the farmer, and the probable result likely to fall on the landholder, arising from the reduced and low price of corn, owing particularly to the importations from France, &c. The Petition further stated, that as the agricultural interest was blended with that of the tradesman and mechanic, the latter were invited to join in its support, and add their signatures thereto. Mr. Benett insisted that, as the evidence given before the Corn Committees had never been contradicted, the legislature were bound to afford the agricultural interest their protection; and, enforcing the necessity of Parliamentary interposition in favour of the landed interest, he said, that unless some measure were devised to enable the farmer to pay his present rent and taxes, the landholders would be completely ruined; and he solemnly declared, that, unless this desirable object was carried into immediate execution, he for one would be under the absolute necessity, before that day twelvemonth, of leaving the country with his family, to reside where provisions and all the necessaries of life were to be obtained at a rate within the reach of his fortune.

[Footnote: Quere.—If this solemn asseveration of Mr. Benett's be correct, (who, by the bye, is a Land-owner to the amount of 10,000_l_. a year,) what will be the fate of those who are left behind, without the means of flying from the evil?]

The motion was briefly seconded by Mr. BOWLES.—Mr. HUNT began by stating his objection to the meeting altogether, asserting, that if the meeting was not illegal, it was highly improper for a few individuals of a particular class to call a meeting to petition Parliament in favour of tradesmen and mechanics, without giving them an opportunity of attending to decide upon its propriety. This was a close meeting of landholders and farmers; many respectable tradesmen, inhabitants of the town, would have attended, but they were told they had no business there, not being landholders or farmers. This meeting, therefore, bore a resemblance to a "Conclave of Cardinals with closed doors."—Instead of calling a meeting like this, why not call a public county meeting, and meet the question manfully and openly? One reason against this was, that at an open county meeting, even Mr. John Benett would not be so hardy as to bring forward a petition, the sole object of which was the keeping up the price of corn, under the cloak of its being a petition in favour of the tradesman and the mechanic.—

In fact, this was a petition especially to benefit the landholder; even the farmer was of secondary consideration, and it was decidedly hostile to the interest of every other class of society; and if acted upon would prove ruinous to the little tradesman, the mechanic, and the labourer. The landlord had met with no reverse since the commencement of the war; his rents had progressively increased, in proportion as the rest of the community had suffered privations; the nearer the mechanic and the labourer had approached to starvation and beggary, the higher were the profits and the more efficient the means of the landholder. This was no theoretical proposition, hastily introduced, it was a practical truism, the result of careful and recent inquiry. He would read to the meeting an account of the population of the parish of Enford, a large parish in the centre of the county of Wilts, with the comparative statement of the rise in the price of labour, the price of bread, and the price of land, within the last 30 years. The number of houses were 143, population 656, farmers, &c. 250, labourers 406, labourers (not paupers) 201, labourers (paupers) 205. About 30 years back, the labourers in this parish received 6_s_. per week; at this time they received 8_s_. per week—30 years back, the quartern loaf averaged about 5_d_. at this time it is 10-1/2_d_.—30 years back, the labourer could purchase with his week's pay, 6_s_. fourteen quartern loaves; now he can only purchase with his week's pay, 8_s_. nine quartern loaves—about 30 years back, the principal farm in this parish, then belonging to the late Mr. Benett, of Pyt-house, in this county, was let for 400_l_. a-year; at the present time this farm, the property of Mr. John Benett, of Pyt-house, is let for 1,260_l_. a-year. Thus it clearly appears in this parish, within the last 30 years, labour has risen from 6_s_. to 8_s_. per week, 33 per cent., the quartern loaf from 5_d_. to 10-1/2_d_., 105 per cent., the rent of land from 400_l_. to 1,260_l_., 212 per cent. This proves that bread has risen within this period more than three times as much as labour, and land more than twice as much as bread, and more than six times as much as labour. At the present price of land, corn, bread, and labour, the landlord is benefited three times as much as the farmer, and six times as much as the labourer. Mr. Benett said, that he had, since the period mentioned by Mr. Hunt, purchased the tithes, and added them to the farm, which was included in the present rent. Mr. Hunt replied, that he was perfectly aware of this circumstance, as well as of another circumstance equally important, which was this, that Mr. Benett bad taken a considerable portion of the best land from his farm, and added it to another, which produced a greater rent than the value of the tithes, therefore the balance was more in favour of the landlord than be had stated. He had mentioned this particular farm, as it belonged to Mr. Benett, the proposer of the present measure; but from his own knowledge (having an estate himself in the same parish) he could state, that the land had risen in the same, and, in some instances, in a higher proportion. He, therefore, particularly enjoined the farmers to pause before they gave their sanction to a measure, which had only for its object the benefit and aggrandizement of a few rapacious landholders, whilst it was calculated to shift the odium of a dear loaf off their own shoulders, and fix it upon the back of the farmer. Let the odium rest where it was due, upon those who were the supporters of the war, upon those who have fattened upon the miseries of the people.—Mr. Bleeck followed on the same side with Mr. Hunt, exposing the fallacy of attempting to palm upon the meeting a petition, professing to have for its object the welfare of the tradesman and the mechanic, whilst the operation of it would tend to perpetuate the misery they had so long endured; he called to the recollection of many of the meeting, the scenes which they had been in the habit of witnessing in that hall, the walls of which had so often resounded with the professions of those gentlemen who were now complaining of the present times, the effect of that war, to support which, they had so often solemnly pledged, not only their last guinea, but their last drop of blood. He called upon the Chairman not to blink the question, because the majority of the meeting appeared against the petition, but let it fairly meet its fate.—Paul Methuen, Esq., one of the representatives for the county, said, that seeing a meeting called, signed by a number of respectable individuals, he felt it his duty to attend it; but if he had known that it was to have been a close meeting with closed doors, he certainly would not have come near the place. If the meeting decided upon petitioning the House of Commons, whatever that petition may be, he should feel it his duty to present it; although he would not pledge himself to support the landed interest, to the injury of the tradesman and the mechanic. The Chairman having hinted that it was going a little too far, to say that this petition was in favour of the tradesman and mechanic, and as they would not have an opportunity of voting upon the subject, he thought they had better be left out of the petition. The whole meeting appeared to concur in this, and Mr. Benett proposed to draw the pen through the words "tradesman and mechanic;" which being done the Chairman desired all those who were for the petition to hold up their hats. The Chairman declared a decided majority kept their hats on; which was followed by a symptom of approbation, whereupon the Chairman asserted, that the meeting was so tumultuous, he would not take the sense of it against the petition. Upon this, the Chairman, with Mr. Benett and a few of his friends, retired to a private room at the inn, but whether to sign this petition in secret, which they could not carry in public, or to abandon it altogether, we do not know.— A statement of the fate of the petition was announced to the inhabitants of the town by the bellman, amidst the becoming cheers of the populace.

I have no hesitation to say, that the publication of this report in all the London newspapers, and in almost every country newspaper in the three kingdoms, first roused a general feeling aginst the proposed Corn Bill. Meetings were afterwards called in London and in Westminster, and petitions were presented against the measure from almost every town and district throughout the country. Sir Francis Burdett attended the meeting of his constituents in Palace-yard, where they passed strong resolutions, and sent a petition to the House against the measure; but Sir Francis took a different view of the question, and appeared to think it was necessary that the English farmer should be protected, and I believe he said that he cared not whether the Bill was passed or not, and that it would make no difference to him personally whichever way it was decided. This certainly was not viewing the question with that liberality and sound judgment with which the Baronet was accustomed to act. For the moment, his speech threw a considerable damp upon the ardour of a great many persons, who had before been very sanguine against the adoption of the said Corn Bill, and so completely were the affections of the people riveted to the opinions of Sir Francis Burdett, that his constituents cheered him, and drew him home in his carriage afterwards, amidst the acclamations of the populace.

This was the first instance that I recollect, for many years, in which I acted in opposition to the opinions of Sir F. Burdett; but, as I was thoroughly convinced of the mischievous intention of the supporters of the measure, as well as of the fatal result that must follow its adoption, I persevered in my opposition to it with all my power. I was not contented with having attended the Common Hall, as a Liveryman of the city of London, to protest against the Bill; I was not satisfied with having blown up the cabal at Warminster, and compelled the parties to sneak off with their resolutions and petitions, to pass them and get them signed in holes and corners; but I personally procured a requisition to be signed by the freeholders of the county of Wilts, and presented it to the High Sheriff for the county, my old school-fellow, William Wyndham, Esq. of Dinton, who was then residing at Marshwood, near that place, while his house was building at Dinton. The Sheriff was just upon the point of going out of office, and said the day was fixed for him to meet the new Sheriff, at Salisbury, for the purpose of the latter being sworn in. He, however, undertook to transmit my requisition to him, and recommended that he should give notice of the meeting in the first Salisbury paper after he had entered into his Sheriffalty. I ascertained that a Mr. GEORGE EYRE, the King's printer, of the house of Strahan and Eyre, printers in London, was to be the new Sheriff, and, not choosing to trust to this mushroom gentleman, I appointed to meet Mr. Wyndham at Salisbury, with the requisition, that I might see the old and new Sheriff together; telling him, at the same time, that I was determined not to be shuffled out of the county meeting, for, in case the new Sheriff did not choose to call it, I should go to the expense of calling it myself; and in the propriety of doing so Mr. Wyndham concurred with me. (My elder readers will recollect, and it is necessary to inform my young friends, that there was no law at that period to prevent my calling the county together, to consult upon the propriety of petitioning the Parliament; at least as many of them as chose to assemble for that purpose.)

I had drawn up a requisition, and procured a number of respectable signatures, and if the Sheriff, by refusing to call the meeting, had dared to neglect his duty and abuse the high trust reposed in him by his office, it was only necessary to advertise the requisition, and call the meeting in the name of the requisitionists. When the day arrived I was punctual to my appointment, and met the two Sheriffs at the office of their Deputy, Mr. Attorney Tinney, who would as soon have seen the devil as me; but, as he knew that I was not to be put off with any of his usual quibbling tricks, upon demanding an interview with his principals, I was admitted forthwith. I found this Mr. George Eyre just such a Jack-in-office as I should have expected a King's printer, or a King's lacquey, or a King's hairdresser to be; as unlike Mr. Wyndham, both in appearance and manner, as a sneaking upstart could be unlike a respectable country gentleman. The latter was unassuming, free, easy, and gentleman-like, willing and anxious to do his duty in such a way as was at once consistent with the character of his high office, and accommodating to the requisitionists; whilst the former was jealous of his authority, and appeared only to consider how he could get over the task which he had neither the courage to decline, nor the address to manage with common urbanity. The day, however, was at length fixed, but at the greatest possible distance of time, evidently for the purpose of frustrating the object of those who signed the requisition, as in all probability the Bill would be passed the House of Commons before the day of meeting, or at least before the petition could be presented. In fact, both the Sheriff and his hopeful Deputy declared with a sneer, that the necessity of holding the meeting might possibly be set aside, by the House of Commons passing the Bill. Old birds, however, are not to be caught with chaff, and therefore the requisition was drawn too general to allow of practising a trick of this sort; it said not a word about the House of Commons; it merely requested that a county meeting might be called, to consider the propriety of petitioning PARLIAMENT against the proposed Corn Bill; and I sarcastically observed to these wiseacres, that it depended upon the feeling of the meeting, when we were assembled, which branch of the Parliament we should petition, whether King, Lords, or Commons, and it would be quite time enough to consider that point when we were assembled. It always required considerable address and presence of mind to keep the upper hand of these legal quirk-dealers, these impudent under-strappers, whose whole trade consists in trick and chicane; but I do not recollect ever having been outwitted by any one of them as to the proceedings of a public meeting.

In the interval between the presenting of the requisition and the coming together of the meeting, there were great riots in London, each night that the measure was discussed in the House of Commons; great multitudes had assembled about the House in a menacing manner; the military were called in, and the Bill was passed while the House was guarded with an armed military force with bayonets fixed. Many of the Members of the Honourable House were hooted and hustled as they passed into the doors; and Mr. Garrow, the then Attorney-General, had rather a narrow escape. It is said that he was surrounded, and the mob were just upon the point of claping a halter round his neck, supposing him to be one of the obnoxious individuals who had been pressing the Bill through the House with the most indecent haste, when some one in the crowd sung out with a loud voice that it was Garrow, the Attorney-General, who had not prosecuted any one for a political libel since he had been in office; upon which they gave him three cheers and let him pass.

The day for the meeting at length came. When we arrived at Salisbury, where the meeting was called, the news was brought down that the Bill had passed the House of Commons the night before; but we were not thrown off our guard by this event, as we had in some measure anticipated it. It was, however, necessary to draw up fresh resolutions, and a petition to the Lords instead of the Commons, which Mr. Cobbett and myself had scarcely time to half accomplish before a messenger entered out of breath, to say that the Sheriff and his party were gone to the Hall, whither they had proceeded the moment the clock struck twelve, instead of waiting, as usual, till it was one; the county meetings having always been called at twelve, under an understanding that one was the hour at which business was to be commenced. In another minute or two a second messenger hurried to us, to say that the Sheriff had opened the proceedings, and the meeting would be instantly closed if we did not proceed to the spot with all possible expedition. In consequence of this, Mr. Cobbett and myself packed up our half-finished resolutions and hastened to the scene of action, yet still conceiving it impossible that any thing assuming the character of a gentleman could be guilty of such a mean, pitiful, and underhanded trick as that which we were told would be played. Scarcely, however, had we reached the door of the Hall, when we met Mr. Sheriff, Mr. Deputy, and a pretty little knot of sycophants and dependants, coming out; and Tinney informed us, that, as no one had come forward when the requisition was read, the Sheriff had dissolved the meeting. We expostulated against such an ungentlemanly like trick, but our expostulations would have been in vain if the tricksters had happened to have got without the door of the Hall; but, fortunately, we got into the entrance passage, and met them face to face, where our arguments were supported by such an overwhelming power in the rear, that they were quite irresistible. The fact was, there happened to be no back door, and with a little gentle force we conveyed, or rather wriggled, these worthy men in office back again, step by step, and inch by inch, till the worthy Sheriff once more took the chair, amidst the deafening shouts of the largest county meeting that I ever witnessed. To tell the truth, they found it impossible to get out of the Hall, and at length, after having made as many shifts and feints and shuffles as an old fox would to avoid the well-trained, true-bred pack, and finding that we neither yielded to coaxing, bullying, nor wheedling, they ultimately made a virtue of necessity, and the high-bred High Sheriff turned-to very kindly, and once more opened the proceedings of the meeting, by reading the requisition. I then moved an adjournment into the open air, and two carpenters' benches (the very best temporary hustings) being at hand, the business went on and passed off in a most regular and satisfactory manner. After I had moved and Mr. Cobbett had seconded the resolutions, and a petition to the House of Lords, praying that they would protect us from the rapacity of the Commons, and not pass the Corn Bill, and after an amendment had been proposed by the Reverend Mr. Hill, supported by Mr. Gourley, our resolutions and petition, which also prayed for a Reform of the House of Commons, a reduction of all useless places, and an abolition of all unmerited pensions and sinecure places, were carried unanimously, or at least with only a few, very few dissenting voices. Sheets of parchment and pens and ink were provided, and the people began to sign their names instantly. Mr. Cobbett returned to his home, while I sent messengers or went myself into every town in the county, and collected signatures, which amounted, at the end of four days, to TWENTY-ONE THOUSAND, and were forwarded with the petition to Lord Stanhope, who presented it on the second reading of the Bill in the House of Lords. I reckoned that it cost me upwards of fifty pounds, out of my own pocket, to accomplish this county meeting and petition; no one soul but myself having contributed a single sixpence towards the expense.

About the time that the populace in London were committing great excesses, by breaking the windows of those Members of Parliament who took a prominent part in favour of the Corn Bill, Lord Cochrane, who was confined in the King's Bench prison, in consequence of a verdict given, or at least procured, against him, for the part it was pretended he had in the Stock Exchange hoax, made his escape from that prison, a circumstance which caused a very considerable sensation throughout the metropolis and the country; for it was rumoured that his Lordship had made his escape with the intention of placing him self at the head of the London rioters, who had by this time increased in numbers and daring resistance to the authorities. In descending by a rope from the top of the wall, his Lordship fell from a very considerable height, and injured himself severely, so much so, that he was for a great length of time unable to raise himself from the earth. His Lordship remained undiscovered for some weeks, and then appeared in his place in Parliament, where he was discovered sitting upon one of the benches of the House of Commons, and from thence he was taken by the civil power, and delivered once more into the custody of the Marshal of the King's Bench prison. Let the reader bear in mind what I have already mentioned, that the Parliament of England was obliged to be aided by the military; that Westminster Hall and both Houses of Parliament were encircled by troops, and all the avenues leading thereto were guarded by soldiers with their bayonets fixed, and that thus this law, this infamous Corn Bill, to enhance and keep up the price of bread, the staff of life, was passed under the protection of a military force, in defiance of the prayers, the petitions, and the remonstrances of a great majority of the people of England; a fact which clearly demonstrated that the House of Commons, where the Bill originated, were so far from being the representatives of the people, that they acted in direct hostility to them, and had no feeling in common with them, but were more like a band of venal, corrupt, profligate, dishonest, and merciless oppressors.

The landed gentry in other parts had now began to shew a disposition to shake off the income tax, called the property tax, which was an arbitrary and inquisitorial war tax, and ought to have been abolished as soon as peace was proclaimed. As, however, the Ministers were evidently not in the least disposed to give up fourteen millions a-year, which this horrid imposition produced, many meetings were held and petitions agreed to, praying for its being abolished. Amongst the number a requisition was signed and presented to the Sheriff of Somerset, George Edward Allen, Esq. of Bathhampton, requesting him to call a public meeting to take the subject into consideration, and he immediately advertised a meeting of the freeholders and inhabitants of the county, to be held at Wells. At the head of this requisition was Mr. Hanning, of Dillington. I saw the advertisement in the public papers, and as it appeared that the parties calling the meeting only intended to petition for a partial repeal of the tax, as far as it affected themselves, while they left the most odious and obnoxious half of it untouched, I mean that part which affected the small annuitant and fundholder, the widow and the orphan, whose income was under one hundred pounds a-year, I directly made up my mind to attend the meeting. As a preliminary step, therefore, I wrote a letter to the freeholders and inhabitants of the county, calling upon them to come to the meeting, and to support me in the endeavour to frustrate such a partial proceeding. In case of their being disposed to petition the Parliament, I urged them to support me in petitioning for an absolute repeal of the whole tax. This letter was published in one or two of the county newspapers, and I also printed and caused to be circulated five hundred copies of it in hand-bills.

When the day came, I had to drive from Middleton Cottage in the morning, a distance of fifty miles, and I reached Wells a little after one o'clock, the meeting having been advertised to commence at that hour. The news flew through the city like wildfire, and as I drove through the streets in my tandem I was hailed by the acclamations of the people. I had not been five minutes in the inn, before I received a polite message from the High Sheriff, Mr. Allen, to say that he had delayed opening the meeting till my arrival, and he would not go to the hustings till I was ready to attend. Here was a contrast to the conduct of the paltry upstart of the county of Wilts! As soon as the clock struck one Mr. Allen was urged, by Mr. Perpetual Under-Sheriff and his associates, some of the attending Magistrates, to proceed to the hustings, and to open the proceedings forthwith. With this suggestion he, however, peremptorily refused to comply, saying, "as Mr. Hunt has published a letter in the public newspapers, to say that he should attend the meeting, and propose some amendment to the petition which is meant to be submitted to the meeting by those who signed the requisition, I have not the slightest doubt but he will keep his word; and as he lives at a great distance, I should not be doing my duty conscientiously if I did not wait half an hour, to make allowance for the difference of clocks, or any accidental delay that may have arisen in so long a journey."

As he had anticipated, I arrived within ten minutes of the time; and in answer to his polite message I returned another, thanking him for his attention, and promising not to detain him five minutes. In the meanwhile I had a message from Mr. Hanning and the other gentlemen who signed the requisition, to say that, previous to our going to the hustings, they wished to consult with me upon the propriety of the resolutions, &c. that they meant to submit to the meeting. My answer was, "give my compliments to the gentlemen, and say that I am at the Swan, where I shall be happy to confer with them if they wish it." In three minutes, before I could scarcely wash my hands and face after my journey, they entered my room. They began by saying that they had seen my letter in the public papers, and as they by no means wished to act hostilely to me, or to create any division at the meeting, they had no objection to adopt my resolutions and petition, which prayed for the total repeal of the Property Tax, instead of those which they had drawn up, which only went to the partial repeal of it. I saw by this that they had fully ascertained what was the real public feeling, and that they were not willing to brave it at the meeting. I begged to see their resolutions and petition, adding, that I by no means wished to take it out of their hands; and to skew them that I wished to meet them upon liberal terms, I proposed the embodying one of my resolutions among theirs, and a corresponding clause in their petion. As these additions fully recognised the principle for which I contended, I was desirous to skew the requisitionists that I did not wish to take any advantage of the popularity that I possessed, and I therefore agreed that Mr. Hanning should propose his resolutions and petition, thus altered and amended, and that I would then give him my hearty concurrence and support.

My proposition being readily accepted, and hailed as an emblem of union, we proceeded to the hustings together, and every thing went off with the greatest unanimity and cordiality amongst all the parties, with the exception of a discussion that took place upon a bye resolution, which I proposed, of a vote of thanks to the Ministers, for having concluded a "peace with the Americans, the only remaining free Government in the universe." I meant this resolution to answer a double purpose; first, by thanking the Ministers, I gave the Whigs a kick; and second, it was a compliment due to the Americans, for having bravely repelled a tyrannical invader. It was a Whig meeting, at least it was called by the Whigs, and therefore every exertion was made to prevent the passing of this resolution. Old Sir John Cox Hippisley palavered, and whined, and begged and prayed, for an hour, and endeavoured to wheedle and coax me to withdraw my motion for the sake of unanimity. Upon all public matters, however, I was ever inflexible, and I was therefore prepared at all times to do my duty without looking to the right or to the left, and I consequently insisted upon having the motion put to the meeting. On a division it was lost by only a very small majority.

In the month of January, 1815, a treaty was concluded between the Allied Powers at Vienna, to maintain the treaty of Paris. In the Congress, by which this treaty was settled, the Ministers of some of the Allied Powers seriously proposed to seize Napoleon at Elba, to carry him off by force from that island, and to convey him to St. Helena; and this base scheme was to be executed in violation of the solemn compact entered into with him; a compact granting to him the island of Elba in full sovereignty! But it is quite clear that there are no treaties, however solemn; no engagements, however binding; no obligations, however sacred, that tyrants will not violate, and laugh to scorn, when it suits their purpose so to do.

The treaty of Vienna was entered into upon the 25th of January, and it is supposed, and I believe pretty well understood, that this diabolical plot against the life and liberty of Napoleon was privately communicated to him, by some friend that he had amongst the diplomatists of the Allied Sovereigns. Napoleon, therefore, took the resolution of leaving Elba as soon as possible, and returning to France, to endeavour to reconquer that crown which had been forced from him by the very same despots whom he had more than once restored to liberty and power after he had subdued them.

Having deliberately made up his mind to risk the attempt, Napoleon promptly carried it into execution. He set sail from Elba on the 26th of February, with about one thousand brave followers, in four vessels. An English frigate pretended to chase them, but he landed his little force at Frejus, in France, on the 1_st of March_, 1815, and he was soon joined by various bodies of the army, who flew to the ranks of their old commander, who had bravely led them into a thousand battles, and with whom they had participated in a thousand victories over the enemies of their country. Though at the outset his force was not more than a thousand strong, he marched boldly forward in a direct line for Paris, and his numbers continued to swell as he advanced. France was in a state of the greatest agitation, and of hopes and fears for his safety and his success. He arrived at Gasson the 5th, the next day he crossed the Upper Alps, passed on through Grenoble, reached Burgoin on the 10th, and on the 11th he entered the City of Lyons, the second city of the French empire, where he was received with every demonstration of respect and attachment. The army and the people vied with each other which should evince the greatest enthusiasm; from Lyons he issued a Proclamation, annulling all that had been done in his absence. On the following day he marched on, and reached Autun; on the 16th he entered Auxerre; on the 17th he halted at Fontainbleau; and made his entrance into Paris in triumph on the TWENTIETH OF MARCH. There he was hailed with enthusiastic delight; and, amidst the deafening acclamations of the Parisians, he entered the Palace of the Thuilleries, from whence Louis the Desired had fled but a few hours before, with the utmost precipitation and dismay. Napoleon could have arrested his flight, and brought him back as a prisoner without the least difficulty, but he was too brave even to tread upon so fallen a creature. At a subsequent period the Duke d'Angouleme also fell into the hands of one of his Generals, but the moment Napoleon heard of it, he ordered him to be set at liberty to go where he pleased. But, as it turned out afterwards, this proved a fatal lenity. On the day that Napoleon entered Paris, the following notices were placarded by the people on the walls of the Thuilleries and the neighbourhood. "A Palace to be let well furnished, except kitchen utensils, which have been carried away by the late proprietor." "A large fat hog to be sold for one Napoleon," &c. &c. These things evidently shewed with what feelings of utter contempt the Bourbons were regarded by the Parisians. Napoleon, as I have already stated, was informed that Louis had only quitted Paris a few hours previously, and that it would be very easy to overtake him and his cavalcade, and bring them back prisoners to Paris; but this he positively forbade, adding, that he had no wish to touch a hair of his head. Thus was Napoleon placed upon the throne of France, restored to all his former power of sovereignty in that country without one life being lost, one single shot being fired. If ever there was a legitimate monarch, Napoleon was now that man; for he was voluntarily elected and placed upon the throne by the united voice of the whole people. The cause of the Bourbons became so desperate, that not the slightest hope remained for them, except what could arise from resorting to the aid of foreign arms to restore the King to the throne from which he had fled with the greatest precipitancy, without having made the slightest resistance. In fact the whole people were by this time completely sick of the Bourbons. The Despots of Europe, meanwhile, were in the greatest alarm, but they soon entered into a league to make war upon France to restore the old tyranny of the Bourbons, and they instantly began to prepare to carry their project into effect. Buonaparte offered peace to the combination of Sovereigns, but he did not neglect to prepare his troops for any emergency that might happen.

When the news arrived in England that Napoleon had quitted Elba, and landed at Provence, in France, it was with the greatest difficulty that John Gull could be made to believe that it was true, till the daily accounts arrived of his steady march towards Paris. As he approached that capital the most intense interest was excited, not only in France and England, but all over the civilised world. In England nothing else was talked of or thought of. I own I never before felt so much anxiety; and the desire to see the newspapers, which furnished an account of the daily progress which he made, became every hour more and more acute. At length, the official intelligence arrived, that Napoleon had entered Paris, and that he was peaceably restored to the throne amidst the shouts and applause of the whole French nation. I had been from home upon business the whole day, and I had heard of this happy event, and when I returned in the evening I was much gratified to find that my family had anticipated my wishes, had procured candles, and were preparing to ILLUMINATE MY HOUSE. I had said, in the beginning of March, when the information reached England, that Napoleon had landed in France, that I would illuminate my house if ever he reached Paris alive. Although some doubts were expressed at the time by my family, as to the prudence of such a course, yet, as I declared my determination to do so when the time arrived, there was no hesitating, no desire to baulk my intentions, or to disappoint my wishes, which, having been once seriously expressed, were quite sure to be accomplished in my family; so that, if I had not returned home that night, my house would nevertheless have been illuminated. The candles were all fixed, and every pane of glass could boast a light. The moment it was dark, MIDDLETON COTTAGE WAS ILLUMINATED from top to bottom. This was the only occasion, this was the first time in my life, that ever any house of mine had been illuminated.

Middleton Cottage is situated on the south side of the great Western Road, leading from London to Exeter, sixty-one miles from London, and three miles from Andover. The Exeter and the Auxiliary Mail, and three or four other coaches, pass towards London between seven o'clock in the evening and twelve o'clock at night. Every one of the coachmen pulled up their horses, and stopped to inquire the occasion of this blaze of light. The passengers in the first coach also inquired of the coachman whose house it was, and what was the cause of this splendid display? Some one said, he supposed it was in consequence of peace with America, which had just been announced.—"No, no;" said the coachman, "it is on account of the restoration of Buonaparte." "O, a vile Jacobin!" exclaimed a nondescript with a whistling, piping voice, "I wish somebody would break all his windows." The coachman cracked his whip, and can they passed; but as there was the mail, and four other coaches to pass, I sent my servant out to stand at the gate, to inform those that might inquire, that my house was illuminated in consequence of the safe restoration of Napoleon to the throne of France. The next coach that came was the mail; it was going very fast, being rather down the hill; and, as the glare came suddenly upon them, the coachman had some difficulty in pulling up his horses till they got rather beyond the front of the cottage. I was just coming out of the garden, and as it was dark, I heard, unseen, but very distinctly, the following dialogue: "Aye, aye, coachman, stop, by G-d! tell me whose house this is?"—"It is Middleton Cottage, Sir, the residence of Mr. Hunt." "I suppose it is illuminated for the return of Napoleon?"—"Yes, Sir," said my servant, apparently to save farther trouble of inquiry, "my master illuminates his house for the first time in his life, because Buonaparte has ascended the throne, and reconquered the crown of France, without bloodshed." With some tremendous oath, two of them (who it turned out were gemmen of the army) swore that they would get out and smash every one of the windows, and they immediately began to open the door of the coach, to put their threat into execution. Upon hearing this, I lost not a moment's time, but darted in doors, and having seized a faithful cudgel, I sallied out, with the determination of taking prisoner the first man that threw a stone, and, at all hazards, conducting him into my parlour, where he should have drank long life and success to Napoleon upon his knees, before he should have been liberated. This was the resolution I formed while I was hastening after my cudgel, and having once formed that resolution, I would have carried it into effect at the risk of my life. When I got out the coast was clear, and the mail was got nearly out of hearing. My servant informed me, that as soon as the guard saw what was going on, he jumped down from his seat, and warmly expostulated with the military heroes upon their folly and rashness; but when he saw that they persevered, he swore that the coachman should drive on and leave them behind if they got out; and he added, that he had no doubt but Mr. Hunt would blow both their brains out with his double-barrelled gun, if they offered to touch one pane of his windows. To this the coachman assented, exclaiming, at the same time, "By G—d it would serve them right for their pains." This being the case, the doughty heroes thought proper to sit still, but muttered out, "d——d jacobin," as the coachman drove off. These worthies, I have no doubt, communicated this circumstance at head-quarters, and some of my worthy neighbours, of the rotten-borough of Andover, kindly conveyed the fact to several editors of the London newspapers. The editors, however, took good care not to mention a word of it in their papers, but it was very currently talked of in the coffee-houses of Paris. I know thousands of Englishmen that rejoiced at the escape of Napoleon from Elba, and at his return to the French capital, but I know of no one except myself who had the courage to testify his joy by any open demonstration.

As soon as the news of Buonaparte's landing in France arrived in England, the Prince Regent sent a message to both Houses of Parliament, declaring his intention to join the Allies, and corresponding addresses were voted accordingly. A public meeting was called by the electors of Westminster, to take into consideration a petition to be presented to Parliament, against renewing the war for the purpose of forcing a ruler upon the people of France. I was in London when this meeting was held in Palace-yard; I attended it, and I spoke there, for the first time, in support of this petition. What I said was so favourably received by the people, that they passed an unanimous vote of thanks to me, and drew me in my carriage to my inn, the British Coffee-house, they having spontaneously taken off the horses. When I got there I mounted the roof of the carriage, briefly thanked the multitude, and requested them to retire peaceably, which they did without delay. The petition was presented by Sir Francis Burdett, and, I think, on the same evening. It was a strong remonstrance against plunging once more into a war with the French, merely to restore the Bourbons to that throne which they had not the talent or the virtue to fill, either with honour to themselves or with advantage to the people.

The Parliament now, almost by acclamation, voted that the property tax should be continued for one year. The treaties made with Holland, Russia, and Sweden, were laid before both the Houses of Parliament, and approved of. The Minister likewise proposed new taxes, to the amount of 3,728,000_l_. per annum.

While the British legislators were thus honourably employed, the allied despots collected their forces in two great bodies, under Marshal Blucher and Wellington, the latter of whom had been created a Duke. Napoleon on his side was busily engaged, both in civil and military affairs. He laid before the Senate of France a new constitution, which was accepted, and a meeting, called the "Champ de Mai," was held at Paris, on the 1st of May, to swear to that constitution. On the 1st of June there was a revolution at Martinico, in favour of Napoleon, but it was soon suppressed by the British troops. On the 8th, a confederation, or rather a conspiracy of tyrants and their agents, was signed at Vienna, called the "Holy Alliance." On the 12th, Napoleon left Paris, to join his army on the Belgian frontier. The Prussian army, under Blucher, was attacked at Ligny, and totally defeated by Napoleon on the 15th, and on the following day he attacked the Dutch and the English under Wellington, and compelled them to fall back from Quatre Bas, at which place they were posted. The combined English, Dutch, Belgian, and Hanoverian forces were concentrated, on the 17th, under Wellington, at Waterloo. On the eighteenth, Napoleon, with sixty-eight thousand men, attacked the combined army commanded by Wellington, consisting of ninety thousand troops. A dreadful slaughter ensued, and Wellington was hardly pressed by his illustrious opponent. This success on the side of Napoleon continued till four o'clock, at which time he considered the battle as won, when two Prussian corps, one of thirty thousand and the other of forty thousand, under Bulow and Blucher, unexpectedly arrived and turned the right wing of the French. The whole army was thrown into confusion from this unexpected reinforcement to their enemies, and at half-past nine they fled in all directions. The arrival of these two corps was occasioned by some strange misconduct, or something worse, on the part of Marshal Grouchy, who was dispatched by Napoleon to attack these corps with a division of the French army, but by some strange fatality he suffered them to approach the right wing of Napoleon's army unmolested. This and this alone caused the defeat of Napoleon, as these corps of themselves were more numerous than the whole of the troops under his command, harassed and fatigued too as they were at the latter end of a dreadful battle. "Never did the French army fight better than it did upon this occasion; it performed prodigies of valour; and the superiority of the troops, infantry, cavalry, and artillery, over the enemy opposed to them, was such, that had not Blucher arrived with his second corps of Prussians, the victory over the Anglo-Belgian army under Wellington would have been complete, though aided by Bulow's thirty thousand troops; that is to say, it would have been gained by sixty-nine thousand men opposed to nearly double their number; for the troops in the field commanded by Wellington, before Blucher's arrival, amounted to one hundred and twenty thousand men." The Allies, by their own account, lost sixty thousand men, viz. eleven thousand three hundred English, three thousand five hundred Hanoverians, eight thousand Belgians, and thirty-eight thousand Prussians. This makes a general total of sixty thousand eight hundred men. The losses of the French, including those sustained during the rout, and till their arrival at the gates of Paris, was forty-one thousand men. Out of twenty-four English Generals, twelve were killed or badly wounded. The mind quite sickens at the recital of such a horrid slaughter of human beings, for the sole purpose of gratifying the malignant passions of a few tyrants, who had sworn to annihilate the very spirit as well as the substance of liberty. To destroy NAPOLEON, and to raise up Louis, ONE HUNDRED AND TEN THOUSAND lives were sacrificed upon this occasion!

Napoleon repaired to Paris, where he found that traitors of the vilest cast had been at work. The Chambers were in a state of insurrection, and on the 22d of June, 1815, Napoleon resigned the government to a provisional Council. On the 3d of July a suspension of hostilities was signed at St. Cloud, and on the same day Buonaparte arrived at Rochfort, while Paris was evacuated by the French troops and occupied by the allied army. By the articles of capitulation, on which Paris was surrendered, a complete indemnity was secured to all persons. We shall soon see how they were fulfilled. On the 5th, the troops under General Oudinot declared for Louis; and on the 8th, Louis the Desired returned once more to Paris, and resumed the government under the protection of a foreign army. On the 15th, Napoleon took the fatal resolution of throwing himself upon the protection of the British Government. Relying upon the honour of the English character, he surrendered himself to Captain Maitland, of the Bellerophon; on the 24th he arrived in that ship at Torbay, and on the twenty-sixth he sailed to Plymouth, to which port tens of thousands of persons crowded from all parts of England to obtain a sight of him. He was not allowed to land, but on the seventh of August he was removed on board the Northumberland, Captain Cockburn, which sailed on the following day for St. Helena. Napoleon is now dead and gone, but his name will live for ever. It makes my heart ache to think that such a man should have been so deceived and deluded as to the character of the English Government, so much so, as to flatter himself for a moment that he would ever receive justice or mercy at their hands! Noble, generous, forgiving, and possessing all the attributes of a truly brave man himself, he little dreamt of the fate that awaited him; he had heard of the generosity of the English character, he knew the English to be brave, he had always found them so, but he was deceived as to their power and influence over the Government; he was grossly ignorant of the state and character of the British Parliament; he had read De Lolme and other popular writers upon the British Constitution, and he fell into the fatal, the irretrievable error, of believing that the practice of that constitution was the same thing as the theory described by these writers; and thus he was betrayed into a gulf from whence he was never to be extricated. I have before observed, that at the Congress of Vienna it was proposed and seriously urged to seize Napoleon at Elba, and to convey him to St. Helena; and those who proposed this measure had taken care to have all things in readiness to carry their project into execution, in case it had been agreed to. No time was, therefore, now lost in acting upon this plan. The English Ministers knew the sentiments of the Allied Despots upon the subject, and the brave Napoleon, the fallen Emperor, was shipped off to linger, pine, and rot upon a barren rock, in a distant and pestilential climate, in the same way that we would send out a wretch convicted of the highest crimes, as a transport for life. He who had spared Emperors, Kings, and Princes—he who had restored them to their thrones after having bravely conquered them, was now treated like a common convict transport! Disgraceful, damnable, imperishable blot in the escutcheon of England's character!!!

The Assembly of France now met, and passed such laws as might naturally be expected in a country filled with foreign troops. Treaties were entered into by the restored Monarch, to settle the terms of peace, and were signed on the twentieth of July. By these treaties France lost all the conquered territory which she had been allowed to retain in 1814, and was placed nearly in the same geographical situation as before the revolution. One hundred and fifty thousand troops of the five Allied Powers were to remain in France for five years; France was to maintain them, and pay a large pecuniary indemnity, in which a provision was made for the claims of British subjects; and all other matters, good, bad, and indifferent, were to be settled by a convention, to be held at Vienna. The expenditure of this year, drawn out of the pockets of John Gull, amounted to no less a sum than EIGHTY ONE MILLIONS, of which TWENTY-SEVEN MILLIONS were borrowed by loan. The Honourable House of Commons voted TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND POUNDS as an additional remuneration to the Duke of Wellington. In the meantime, the wretchedness of the people of Ireland had driven them to a state of desperation; the resistance to the collection of the TITHES became general in many counties, and a large army of regulars and militia was employed to put down the poor, starved, distressed, and plundered people. Many lives were lost, and a special commission was appointed, by which great numbers were found guilty, and transported to Botany Bay, and all this arose from the most horrid system of rapine and plunder that ever disgraced any nation on the face of the earth.

At the latter end of July, 1815, I was one night taken suddenly ill; I had gone to bed in high robust health, but about three o'clock in the morning I was awoke by a most violent attack in my head, which caused a sensation like the ringing of a church bell in my ear. The fact was, that a sudden pressure of blood upon the brain had taken place. The effect was such that I was almost blind and speechless. My surgeon, Mr. Davis, of Andover, was instantly sent for; but, before he could arrive, I had fainted away four or five times, and he found me in such a state, without any pulse, that he at first hesitated to bleed me; however, upon my urging him to do so, he complied, and the horrid noise which was caused in my head by the blood rushing through my brain with accelerated velocity, somewhat abated, and in the course of the day it wore off, and became like the singing of a tea-kettle. This attack was so violent, and left such a weakness, that I was incapable of rising from my bed, and it was several days before I could walk across the room without assistance. As soon as I was able, which was in four or five days, I drove to Bath, for the advice of Dr. Parry, one of the most eminent physicians of the day, and under whose care one of my family had recovered from the very point of death. Dr. Parry and myself had been upon very friendly and intimate terms, during the time I had lived in Bath, and he had always attended my family while I was there.

When I had described to him the way in which I was taken, and the extraordinary sensation and noise which I had in my head, which still continued like the singing of a teakettle, he said, "You have had a narrow escape, Sir; and had you not been a very temperate man, you would have never spoken again; you have had a violent pressure of blood upon the brain, and you are wholly indebted for your safety to your temperate manner of living; if, however, you will put yourself under my care, and strictly follow my advice, I am confident that I can effect a radical cure, so that you will be no longer liable to a return of your complaint. The means I propose will be slow and tedious, but they will be certain. If you return into the country, and follow the course usually pursued in similar cases, you will, in all probability, be apparently recovered, and as well as ever in a month; but they take my word for it, you will be very liable to a repetition of the same sort of attack, which will very likely prove fatal." I told him that I would most certainly place myself in his hands, and scrupulously follow his directions. "Well, then," said he, "I shall have you bled twice before you leave Bath, and my directions are, that you abstain from all fermented liquors; eat very sparingly of animal food, take regular strong exercise, and lose a pound of blood at least once a month, for a twelvemonth." I certainly looked at him with some degree of astonishment, but when I saw that he was serious and in earnest, I replied, "If you say that all this is absolutely necessary for the recovery of may health, it shall be done; but so excessively weak and languid am I at present, that I do not think I shall be able to take what you call strong exercise. I drove my tandem down here yesterday to see you, and I was so excessively exhausted, that I was obliged to be carried out of the carriage into the inn where I arrived." "O," said he, "driving fifty miles in a tandem may be very good exercise for your horses; but it is not sufficient exercise for you; you must take regular walking and riding exercise. To keep a man in good health, it is always necessary that he should take sufficient exercise to make it a labour; it is indispensible for the health of man that he should labour—and it will be absolutely necessary to your recovery, that you labour daily. I assure you, my good friend," added he, "there is not one in a thousand that ever recover from such an attack as you have had. I never knew a patient who had the resolution to follow the advice which I have given you; I rely, however, upon your good sense, to concur with me in the absolute necessity of reducing your system very low, by abstaining from fermented liquors and animal food—by laborious exercise—and by a constant and regular succession of copious bleeding; and I have confidence in your courage and perseverance in carrying my plan into execution, by which I mean to effect a permanent and radical cure; that is to say, I mean that you shall be rendered as perfectly free from any future attack of the sort, as you were when you were born. I know the precise nature of your complaint well, and I am confident of the remedy, although I have no particular precedent, because I never knew any one act up to the rules I have laid down for you. I know that you have had a violent pressure of blood upon the brain; I know, also, that this attack was not produced by excess or intemperance, but that it arose from your having naturally too great a disposition of blood to the head. I know that your system has received a violent shock, that the blood-vessels upon your brain have been distended, and thereby rendered liable to another and a more fatal attack, unless it can be guarded against by a total alteration of your whole system, which can alone be accomplished by the means that I have suggested." Here he made a short pause, and then earnestly demanded if I was prepared to give him my word that I would act up to his directions; "because," added he, significantly, "I know if you once make up your mind to it, and give me your word that you will do it, that our object will be attained."

Thus it is, that a clever and intelligent physician, by flattering his patient, prevails upon him to encounter what would otherwise appear to be insurmountable difficulties; and thus it is, that human nature is able to bear so much. I promised strictly to abide by his prescription, both as to regimen, exercise, and bleeding. He then sent for Mr. George Norman, the surgeon, and I was bled immediately. This being done, the doctor said that he would call again in the morning, and see the bleeding repeated, and then I should have nothing to do but to return to my home in the country, and follow the plan that he laid down for me. He did so; and, although I was in a state of great weakness, I reached Middleton Cottage the same evening, having driven my tandem fifty miles in the afternoon.

A circumstance that occurred at this time made such a lasting impression upon my memory, that I shall record it for the benefit of future generations. Although it is of a private and pecuniary nature, yet I suspect that it will not be altogether devoid of interest, as it makes part of my history. When I left Rowfant, in Sussex, my stock, crops, underwood, and furniture, produced a very considerable sum, amounting to eight thousand pounds; and, after paying off all pecuniary demands upon me, I purchased five thousand pounds in Exchequer Bills, which I took with me to Middleton Cottage, and opened an account with Messrs. Heaths, the bankers, of Andover. In their hands I deposited several hundred pounds, and the Exchequer Bills, taking all their notes, and drawing upon them for what sums I required to furnish my house, stock my farm, &c. &c., they turning the Exchequer Bills into cash as often as I wanted money. I took care never, for any length of time, to have less than five hundred pounds in cash in their hands, generally several hundreds more, and sometimes as much as fifteen hundred pounds balance of cash in my favour, which they had the use of, as well as the advantage of my taking their notes, and circulating them round the country, besides what I kept in my house. I stocked my farms, both in Hampshire and Wiltshire, at a most expensive time, giving as high as fifty guineas each for my cart-horses; and as I had made great alterations and improvements, at a heavy expense, the money flew pretty fast. When I was taken so dangerously ill, the news spread over the country with considerable rapidity, and, amongst others, it seems it reached the ears of my bankers, who, for the first time, the next morning sent in my account by the post, saying, that as I had overdrawn it a few pounds, they would thank me to remit the balance. This was the latter end of July, and immediately at the point of harvest. Thus situated, I wrote an answer, or rather dictated an answer, stating my situation; and, as I expected I should be prevented from getting out to collect any money to meet the expenses of the harvest, I requested that they would allow me to draw for one hundred pounds for a few weeks, when the balance should be repaid, and my account should be replenished with a fresh advance. To my great surprise, however, I received a reply, saying, that they were much in want of cash, and not only declining to comply with my request, but re-urging the payment of the small balance due to them. I certainly felt extremely mortified at such illiberal, ungenerous, ungrateful, and, I might add, brutal conduct; because it was generally believed at the time that I was in a most perilous situation, and my surgeon had pronounced it as his opinion, that it was absolutely necessary to keep me quiet, and my mind perfectly easy, or the most fatal result might be expected from a relapse; and I have good reason to know that my worthy friend, Mr. WILLIAM HEATH, the Quaker Banker, had been informed of this fact, previous to his sending in my accounts. This treatment, however, operated very differently upon me from what might have been expected, and probably exactly the reverse of what might have been anticipated by Friend William. I had experienced a sudden and violent attack of illness, which had deprived me of the use of my limbs, and almost deprived me of my sight and my speech; I was unable to leave my bed, and it was not expected that I should be able to leave my room for several weeks; and in the weak and very languid state in which I felt myself, I have often thought, and I believe now, that if I had not been roused by the base and unfeeling conduct of Friend William, I should have given way to extreme lassitude; I should have had a relapse, and probably should never have left my room alive, although I was attended by Mr. Davis, who is at the same time one of the most skilful, experienced, and attentive surgeons in the kingdom, and in whose ability and judgment I placed the greatest reliance; but the moment I received this second letter from the Quaker (which was in the evening of the third day of my illness), I got out of bed, and with the assistance of my family I put my clothes on, and with great difficulty I was taken down stairs. I ordered my servant to get my horses ready, as I was determined to go to Bath the next day, to have the advice of Dr. Parry; but the real fact was, that I was much more anxious to see my tenants there, to receive some rent that was due to me, that I might be prepared to pay my harvest people, and get out of the hands of neighbour Heath, the Quaker Banker. On the next day I accordingly drove to Bath, as I have before described, and succeeded in both the objects of my journey, by obtaining the advice of Dr. Parry, and receiving my rent.

On my return home I wrote an answer to Friend William, to say, that I was sorry to hear that he was so pressed for money, the truth of which, I told him, I did not doubt, and, as that was the case, I would pay him the small balance which was due; but that, at the same time, I should certainly decline placing any more money in his hands, and I should also take good care not to keep any of his notes by me any longer than I could help; and from that time to this I have kept my word, as the day may not be far distant when a sovereign may be worth a hundred pounds' worth of them.

I am bound in justice to say, that I do not believe that Messrs. Charles and Thomas Heath were in any way privy to this transaction. On the contrary, I am convinced, that they are totally incapable of such dirty conduct; there is no improbability in their being ignorant of the matter; Squire Quaker Williams having the sole management of the Banking concern, while the two elder brothers, Charles and Thomas, managed the Brewing and Wine Trade. The secret of this dirty conduct of Mister William Heath soon afterwards came out. It seems that he was at the time bargaining to quit the Beaver, and to give up THEE and THOU for a seat in the Corporation of the rotten-borough of Andover; and I have no doubt but that he acted in this unworthy manner in hopes of currying favour with the rotten managers of that rotten, corrupt, and contemptible Corporation; as he very soon afterwards doffed the straight-cut coat without a collar, sunk the broad-brimmed hat, mounted a dandy-cut coat and puppy hat, went to church, married the Parson's sister, and became a right worthy member of that truly worthy body, the Corporators of Andover. Of course he had gone through the ceremony of being read out of the meeting, which is similar to that of being drummed out of a regiment. Alas! alas! what would his poor old father say, if he could peep out of his grave and take a squint at his lisping, darling, baby boy Billy! The old man was a very worthy, respectable, staunch Quaker, and I believe the two elder brothers are very worthy honest men; but Master Billy has just that sort of cast with his eye, that my father always used to caution me against. He always used to say, beware how you trust any fellow that has such a twist in his eye; and I have generally found this observation correct.

Master Billy Heath is also the nominal possessor of a toft of land, or a pig-sty, at Ludgershal, and being a toft man of that wretched Borough, of course he is one of the electors, and he has been instrumental in sending to Parliament some of the most corrupt members that ever entered that Honourable House. This amiable worthy has had a finger in the national pie; he has been one of those who has voted for those that created the national debt; he is, therefore, one of those whom I hold responsible for the payment of it, as long as he has a shilling left to pay with. We hear of a great deal of horror expressed about the breach of national faith, when persons have talked about a reduction of the national debt; and it would indeed be a breach of national faith to reduce the interest of the widow and the orphan, who have their money in the funds, while one of the ramifications of the boroughmongers has got any thing left to pay it with; let all those who supported the system of extravagance, which created the debt, by all means pay the interest of it, as far as they are able; but the great breach of national faith has been, to compel others who have had no finger in the pie, to pay towards making it. Only think of those impudent imposters who supported the infamous breach of national faith in the year 1797, by passing a law to protect the Bank of England from paying their notes; only think of those barefaced swindlers now whining and canting about national faith; only think of the impudence of those who, at the very moment that they are blustering about national faith, and pretending to be shocked at the bare mention of reducing what they call the national debt; only think of their passing an Act of Parliament to reduce the interest of a particular portion of that debt, by lowering the 5 per cent. stocks to 4 per cent.; thus, in the most partial manner, reducing the income of those persons who had their money in the 5 per cents. from one hundred pounds a-year to eighty, while all the holders of other stock continue to receive their full interest!! And yet these are the men that pretend they are so much shocked at the idea of being guilty of any breach of national faith!

But to return to my narrative.—On the sixteenth of August, 1815, a most sanguinary murder was committed by the French Government, in direct violation of the treaty of Paris, which guaranteed the safety of all who had taken part against the Bourbons. Marshal Ney was executed; and this was done under the sanction of the high Allied Powers. Amiable alliance! what a disgrace to the character of Wellington! Ney was a brave soldier, and to execute such a man, under such circumstances, was the height of treachery and baseness. Talk of keeping faith, indeed! This is another proof that tyrants never keep their faith with God or man, any longer than they think it their interest to do so. My opinion is, that Ney deserted and betrayed Napoleon, after the battle of Waterloo, by not doing his duty when he returned to the French capital; but that was no excuse for the gross and cowardly violation of the terms of the capitulation of Paris. There could, in fact, be no justification for such an unfeeling breach of faith, and there certainly was no other excuse for such an act, but that of a base desire to be revenged in cold blood, upon a brave general, whom they could never subdue in honourable warfare.

On the third of October following, the brave patriot Spanish General, Porlier, met a similar fate, and was executed at Corunna, by the order of the execrable and treacherous tyrant Ferdinand. To shew their detestation of such a murder, a considerable number of the British inhabitants of Corunna appeared in mourning for the death of the brave, though unfortunate patriot; upon which, Ferdinand immediately laid an extraordinary contribution upon them. Let the present patriots of Spain never forget this fact, and let them remember that the cause of rational Liberty in that country will never be safe while such a treacherous tyrant has any power left. It is cruelty of the very worst description to suffer such a monster to endanger the freedom and happiness of a whole people. In Italy the despots also enjoyed a triumph. Murat, having been defeated by the Austrian troops, fled, and was assassinated in the kingdom of Naples on the thirteenth of October.

About this time there were serious riots in the North, and particularly amongst the seamen at Sunderland, Newcastle, and Shields, which were ultimately settled by giving them the increase of wages which they demanded. On the fifth of November a treaty was entered into between Russia and Great Britain; by which treaty the Greek Islands, called the Ionian Islands, were placed under the protection of the latter power; and on the twentieth, treaties of general peace were signed at Paris. On the twenty-first of December, Lavalette, condemned at Paris for high treason, escaped from prison in the clothes of Madame Lavalette. Sir Robert Wilson, and Messrs. Bruce and Hutchinson, were mainly instrumental in procuring the escape of this destined martyr to the Bourbon tyrants, by assisting Madame Lavalette in this holy enterprise, for which they were afterwards tried, found guilty, and sentenced to three months' imprisonment in Paris. Sir Robert, as well as Messrs. Bruce and Hutchinson, one of whom was an Irishman, the other a Scotchman, secured to themselves immortal honour, in addition to the sweet satisfaction of having rescued a victim from the remorseless hands of a cruel tyrant.

On the same day, Lord Cochrane was sentenced to a hundred pounds fine for escaping from the King's Bench Prison; but such was the enthusiasm in favour of his Lordship, that the money was raised in a few days by a penny subscription. The House of Commons having honoured his Lordship by expelling him, when he was found guilty of being privy to the Stock Exchange Hoax, a dead set was made by the Westminster Rump to get Mr. Brougham elected in his place; and many private meetings were held at the Crown and Anchor for that purpose. These intrigues having been communicated to me by Mr. Samuel Miller, I wrote to him a letter, which I begged him to shew to the Members of the Rump, and say, that it was my opinion the Electors of Westminster would disgrace themselves if they did not unanimously give the Honourable House a kick, by returning Lord Cochrane again, and that if they did not choose to elect Lord Cochrane again, if they proposed to bring in any other person, except Major Cartwright, I would come to town and oppose him for at least the space of fifteen days. This letter was shewn by Mr. Miller to some of the leaders of the junto, and Mr. Miller informed me that it had the effect of making them at once come to the resolution of returning Lord Cochrane again, or at least of not making any opposition to him, by bringing forward any other person. I believe that on this occasion Sir Francis Burdett stood neuter, but it nevertheless was thought that he was favourable to the return of Mr. Brougham. Whether this was so or not, I cannot say, but it was very natural to conclude so, because those very persons who were his most devoted supporters, appeared to wish it. There had, in fact, been an attempt made, a short time before, to prepare the way for Mr. Brougham and the Whigs to have a share in the rotten Borough of Westminster. It was made at a public meeting, held on some occasion, I forget what, in Palace-yard. At that meeting I attended, having heard that a resolution was to be moved, which had been agreed to at a previous private meeting, held the night before at the Crown and Anchor, and at which meeting some of the said Whig members attended. This said resolution was drawn up by Lawyer Brougham himself, and it was in effect a vote of thanks to the Whigs, for their patriotic exertions in Parliament. Well, after a considerable portion of the business of the day had passed off, as a matter of course, it was announced to the gaping, astonished crowd, by old Wishart, that some patriotic Members of Parliament were in attendance, and that they wished to address the people, they having just arrived upon the hustings for that purpose. The old Tobacconist, Wishart, acting as a sort of master of the ceremonies, introduced them in form as they came to the front of the hustings: as, "This is Mr. Brougham, Gentlemen: this is Mr. Lambton this is Mr. Madocks, (upon which a few voices in the crowd cheered): this is Mr. Grey Bennet: this is Mr. ——, Member for Hertfordshire," I forget his name, which is not of much consequence, as he has since changed it, by taking a Peerage. There might have been several others, but I forget; they were, however, all exhibited to the wondering multitude by Mr. Wishart, and very much in the tone, voice, and manner that a showman exhibits the wild beasts at a country fair—" This is the royal tiger from Bengal," &c.

While all this was going on, I stood snug at one corner in the front of the hustings, and I must own, that I was considering in my mind which would be the best way to expose this intended hoax upon the people of Westminster. I saw there was no feeling of enthusiasm amongst the people; they looked first at the exhibited M. P. and then cast an inquiring suspicious look at the dealer in pigtail and rappee, who introduced them. I contrived to keep my muscles so unconcerned that no one could imagine what was passing in my mind, yet I saw and felt that I had a difficult card to play, and that it would seem very invidious to oppose a mere vote of thanks to any one of the individuals, or, in fact, to oppose a general vote of thanks to those Members of Parliament, for their opposition to the measures of a corrupt administration. On the other hand, it forcibly struck me that it would look very much like an act of cowardice, to stand silent and hear a vote of thanks passed to the Whigs, whose measures and whose conduct I had so often beheld behind their backs, and, in conjunction with Sir Francis Burdett, reprobated and exposed in the strongest language. I therefore determined at all risks to stand forward, and give my reasons for my opposition. At any rate I was determined to support my consistency; although I felt some doubt about the success of my apparently difficult undertaking. Thanks, however, to Mr. Wishart, who, at the best of times, was but a blundering politician, and who had no other influence over the minds of the people than that which he had acquired from being a wealthy shopkeeper, and by putting himself forward at the Westminster elections and dinners, as the advocate of Sir Francis Burdett, I was soon relieved from the unpleasant situation in which I was placed. By the speech which he made, preparatory to the moving this resolution, he likewise completely removed all doubts which I had previously entertained upon the question; for he began with a pompous eulogium upon the political conduct of the Whigs generally, and on that of Mr. Fox in particular. I took care to observe the manner in which the multitude received this eulogium; and I plainly saw, that it only required the boldness to refute his arguments, to be able to carry the proposition in the negative. I saw, too, that there was every now and then a hint given, by one of the Rump understrappers upon the hustings, to get the people to cheer the sentiments which were delivered by Mr. Wishart, but it would not do; a few of the powdered-headed gentry in the crowd certainly responded these hints, by a solitary cheer or two, while the great mass of the people listened more with astonishment than with indifference, and continually cast their eyes towards me with an inquiring look, as much as to say, "Hunt, will you tolerate all this humbug? Surely you will come forward and blow it into the air; we will support you." Mr. Wishart concluded his speech by reading the resolution, and saying, that he confidently expected that it would be carried unanimously. "Stop a bit," said a man in the crowd, "Softly, Sir! let us first hear what Mr. Hunt has to say to it."

Mr. Brougham had been standing, smirking, and bowing, and smiling, all the time that Mr. Wishart had been larding them over with praises, and he was only waiting to have the resolution put and carried, as a matter of course, and was absolutely making ready, and seemed even to be clearing his throat, to thank the enlightened and patriotic Electors of Westminster, for the great honour which they had conferred upon him, and his honourable friends. Some person, I forget who, but it was one of the junto, seconded the motion. I shall never forget the old Major's supplicating look at me; as plain as looks could speak, he seemed to say, "Pray do, Mr. Hunt, let the vote pass; if you do not oppose it no one else will, and I shall have these gentry at any rate entangled in the meshes of my political net." But when the paper was put into the hands of Mr. Arthur Morris, the High Bailiff, I coolly pulled off my hat, and before I could say a word, I was greeted with a shout that might have been heard at the Palace, and at Brooks's. This reception was a deathblow to the Whigs, who began to stare at each other in the most pitiable manner. They knew me well, and they knew that I would not fail to denounce and expose to their faces, the hypocrisy of the Whigs, as I had so often done behind their backs. I began, and the first sentence was received with a loud cheer, and "Bravo, Hunt! give it them; they richly deserve it," resounded from the crowd. "I shall," said I, "without being personal, endeavour to shew you the fallacy, the absurdity, and the inconsistency, of all that Mr. Wishart has said."—(Cheers.) I then went through the history of the Whig measures during the administration of Mr. Fox, and this I did in the way of questions to Mr. Wishart, asking him if he meant that Mr. Fox who brought a Bill into the House of Commons, and got it passed by Ministerial majorities, to enable Lord Grenville to hold, at the same time, the two incompatible offices of First Lord of the Treasury, and Auditor of the Exchequer?—"Bravo! answer that, Wishart." Whether, when he was speaking of the purity of mind, and disinterestedness of soul of Mr. Fox, whether he meant that Mr. Fox who brought in the said Bill, to enable Lord Grenville to receive six thousand a-year, as First Lord of the Treasury, and at the same time four thousand a-year more, to audit his own accounts ?—(tremendous cheers.)—I then went on in the same strain, to ask him, if he meant that Mr. Fox, and those Whigs, who, in defiance of all former precedents, when they were in power, in the year 1807, introduced into the Cabinet, Lord Ellenborough, a corrupt, political Judge, so that he might sit one day as a member of the Cabinet, and advise the prosecution of a man for sedition, or high treason, and the next day might sit in judgment upon him? Whether he meant that Mr. Fox, and those Whigs, who raised the allowances of all the younger branches of the Royal Family, from twelve thousand to eighteen thousand a-year? Whether he meant that Mr. Fox, and those Whigs, who had so violently opposed the passing of the income tax by Mr. Pitt, declaring, in the House of Commons, that it was so unjust, so unconstitutional, and so inquisitorial a measure, that the people of England would be justified in taking up arms to resist the collection of it; yet, when they came into place and authority themselves, immediately raised the same income-tax, from six and a quarter to ten per cent.; while, to curry favour with the Crown, they exempted the King's private property in the funds, amounting to several millions, from the operation of the act, though, with an infamous want of humanity, they left the widow and the orphan of fifty pounds a-year, subject to all its demands? Whether he meant that Mr. Fox, and those Whigs, who brought a Bill into the House to subject to the operation of the Excise Laws, all private families who brewed their own beer; a Bill, which, if passed, would have increased the number of Excise officers from ten to twenty thousand, giving them power at all hours to enter the house of every private family in the kingdom who brewed their own beer? I went on in this way, through the whole history of the Whigs, during the time that they were in power, one year, one month, one week, and one day, in 1806 and 1807; and, before I could get to the end of any one of the questions, the people, who anticipated what was coming, for the subject had been rendered familiar to the mind of every one, gave several almost unanimous and tremendous cheers.

It will be seen that I never spoke one disrespectful word of Mr. Fox, or ever mentioned the names of one of the Whig Members of Parliament who were upon the hustings, or even alluded to them; but just as I was about to wind up my string of questions, by noticing their dismissal from office, I observed a great bustle amongst the populace, who soon burst forth into exclamations of "Look there! they are running away! Why do you not stay and answer the questions?" I did not at first understand what this meant, till a gentleman exclaimed with a loud voice, "Look round, Mr. Hunt; all the Whig gentry are run away!" I turned round, and sure enough they were all flown, having escaped from the back part of the hustings through the King's Arms Inn. As soon as they were gone, the people gave three cheers, and roared out lustily, "Hunt for ever!" I proceeded with my harangue, and lamented that the gentlemen had not remained to assist Mr. Wishart in answering my questions; and I put it to the good sense of Mr. Wishart, whether, unless he could answer them satisfactorily, it would not be more prudent to withdraw the resolution of a vote of thanks to the Whigs, especially as none of them remained to return thanks, even supposing it possible that the resolution should be carried. (This was received with a loud laugh, and a cry to put the question.) Mr. Wishart, however, as if for the purpose of exposing his friends, and totally defeating his own object, persisted in having the resolution submitted to the meeting. The result was, that perhaps forty or fifty hands were held up for it, and a forest of ten thousand hands were raised against it. The High Bailiff, of course, declared that the resolution was lost by a very large majority. This was received with loud peals of applause, and the usual votes of thanks having been passed to the members and the High Bailiff, the meeting was dissolved, reiterating the warm expressions of their approbation of my blowing up such a bubble as was intended to have been palmed upon them by the gentlemen of the Rump Committee.

The Courier, Morning Post, and other Ministerial papers, were unpardonably witty, both in prose and verse, at the expense of the poor Whigs, while the Morning Chronicle, and other Whig papers, were equally severe upon me, and the editors did not fail to be very lavish in their vulgar abuse. That the Whigs were irritated at me is not very wonderful; it was quite clear that they set their hearts upon this meeting; in fact, it was got up by the Rump on purpose to gratify them, the other measures which were brought forward being a mere secondary consideration; and, after all, their labour was worse than thrown away; such a complete defeat never having been before sustained by any party at a public meeting. Yet I will take upon myself to say that, had I not been there, the vote of thanks would have been passed without the slightest opposition, and Messrs. Lawyer Brougham and Co. would have figured away in great stile, and would have sworn that the meeting was not only the most respectable and the most numerous that they ever witnessed, but was composed of much the most intelligent, enlightened, and patriotic citizens in the world; now, forsooth, they were a despicable rabble, deluded and led away by that abominable demagogue, Hunt! The fact is, that the multitude are often taken by surprise, and an English political assemblage is not only the most peaceable, but the best natured body in the world. They often are misled for want of thought, and, in the warmth of their hearts, and for want of explanation, hold up their hands for measures which, upon reflection, they regret. But if the matter is fairly discussed, and they are clearly made to understand the question, they always decide right; and they are not only the most disinterested, but the most honest and upright judges in the world.

Lord Cochrane, as I have before mentioned, having been sentenced to be imprisoned and fined 100_l_. for escaping from the King's Bench prison, it was proposed to pay this fine by subscriptions of one penny from each person; and the very same Rump Committee, who had been intriguing to bring in Mr. Brougham for Westminster instead of his Lordship, never choosing to let a good thing slip through their fingers, and always looking out to catch the public opinion, and to turn it to their own advantage, now stood forward to promote this subscription. Boxes were placed up at Brooks's, in the Strand, the standing treasurer of the Rump Committee, as well as at many other places in London and Westminster, and subscriptions, more or less, were sent in from every part of the kingdom; and, what is very extraordinary, the whole sum was subscribed to a penny; not one penny was there more or less than one hundred pounds; at all events, I never heard of any overplus, and I am sure if there had been any deficiency we should have heard enough of it. When the time came for his Lordship's liberation, it was proposed to tender the whole in copper-pence, as it had been subscribed; and I believe it was proposed or suggested by me, that there should be a public meeting called in Palace-yard, on the same day, and that I would announce to the people assembled, that we were going down to the King's-Bench, to pay in pence, Lord Cochrane's fine of one hundred pounds, which would be taken down in a cart; and I added, that I would give the hint, that those who wished to accompany us might see his Lordship walk out of the front door of the prison, instead of escaping over the walls. By this plan I proposed to bring Lord Cochrane out of prison, and to have him drawn in triumph through the streets of the metropolis, to his house in Bryanstone-street, Bryanstone-square, attended by twenty or thirty thousand people. Mr. Cobbett, who had taken a very active part in his Lordship's favour, was in London at the time, and he fully concurred in the propriety of carrying my plan into effect. The original plan of paying the fine in pence, I believe, was his own: my plan of procuring the meeting in Palace-yard, and proceeding from thence in a body, being an after-thought.

As the period approached, there appeared to be a great deal of shuffling by the Rump, about calling the meeting, and I was on the point of making some stir in the affair, but Mr. Cobbett said they had considered of it, and they thought it would be better for me not to have any thing to do with the meeting, but to let the Westminster people do it themselves. A hint of this sort was never lost upon me, and I immediately said that I concurred in the opinion, that it would be much better for the whole to be done by his Lordship's constituents; but I added, "I am fearful that some cursed hitch may prevent the thing altogether, and that his Lordship will at last be left to walk out of the prison by him self." "Oh!" said Mr. Cobbett, "Peter Walker and the Major will take care of that." I saw that my services were not wanted, and therefore I retired the next day into the country, where my business demanded my presence, and where my inclination at all times called me. Before I left Town, however, I said in a very emphatic manner, "take my word for it, Cobbett, there will be no meeting." Mr. Cobbett replied, "By G—, Hunt, you are a little too bad! You would make one believe that nothing can be done, unless it is done by you." To this sally I merely answered, "We shall see."

I went into the country, and, as I had anticipated, there was no meeting called. The worthy members of the Rump knew very well how to manage to a nicety a thing of that sort, and they parried the importunities of Mr. Walker from time to time, till at length they boldly declared that it was too late to call a meeting. Ultimately the fine was paid, and Lord Cochrane left the prison quietly, without his constituents knowing any thing of the matter; whereas, if it had been made public, tens of thousands would have paid him the compliment to have attended his liberation, and would have conducted him home, as he ought to have been, in triumph through the streets of the metropolis.

I forgot to mention that Lord Cochrane's original sentence, for the Stock Exchange hoax, was, that he should be imprisoned and stand in the PILLORY. The latter part of this sentence was remitted, not out of any kindness, but because the more prudent part of the Cabinet considered the experiment of placing his Lordship in the pillory, to be one upon which it would be a little too hazardous to venture. It was currently reported, that, when Sir Francis Burdett heard of this infamous Star Chamber sentence, he at once declared that he would accompany his colleague, and stand by his side during the time of his undergoing that which was intended to be a disgraceful exposure. However, as I said before, this part of the sentence was remitted, for reasons the most obvious; since, instead of being a disgrace to his Lordship, it would have redounded to his immortal honour. The intention of placing men in the pillory is, to hold them up to the hatred, contempt, and execration of their fellow-citizens; but it was well known to his Lordship's persecutors, that their making the attempt, in this instance, would have had a directly opposite effect: for if they had proceeded to place his Lordship in the pillory, he would have been greeted with the applause and affection of the whole population of the metropolis. This exhibition was, however, dispensed with; but no thanks to the cruel, vindictive, and remorseless Ellenborough; no thanks to the amiable and the mild Judge Bayley, who passed the sentence; no thanks to the Ministers, who were only restrained from carrying it into effect by their fears, and by their fears alone. Those Ministers had already received a lesson on this subject. When Daniel Isaac Eaton was put in the pillory, for publishing some work which was pronounced to be blasphemous by the Judges, he was cheered by the people during the whole of the time that be stood there; every one endeavouring to console him by kindness and attention. The cunning Ministers did not want a second exhibition of this sort; what had passed was calculated to bring the punishment of the pillory into disrepute with the minions of despotism. The public were become too enlightened to contribute to the corrupt views of such a tool to the Government as Ellenborough, and therefore it was that one of the precious minions of the Whigs was selected to bring a Bill into Parliament, to abolish the punishment of the pillory, unless upon a conviction for perjury, and some other particular offence. This Bill passed through both Houses of Parliament without any opposition, and without any discussion. The punishment of the pillory surely is as good a punishment for misdemeanours as it was in the days of Prynne, who had his nose slit, his ears cut off, and stood in the pillory, by a sentence of the corrupt Judges of that day, but who lived to see his persecutors brought to condign punishment. Placing a man in the pillory is an appeal to public opinion; and therefore no punishment on earth can be inflicted which leaves greater disgrace upon the character of the sufferer, where public opinion coincides with and supports the sentence of the Court: but, where public opinion does not coincide with the sentence, where, on the contrary, the sufferer is caressed and applauded by the public, it inflicts no disgrace whatever, but may rather be considered an honour. It inflicted no disgrace upon Daniel Isaac Eaton, because not one single soul in the metropolis concurred in the justice of the sentence; the whole populace applauded him, and protected him, so that if one of the myrmidons of lawless power had dared to insult him, or to pelt him, that caitiff would have suffered on the spot for his temerity and villainy. Had Lord Cochrane been placed in the pillory (and I wish the corrupt knaves of the day had carried their design into execution), it would not have been the slightest disgrace to his Lordship; it would have only shewn that his malignant persecutors thought they had the power to carry their revengeful sentence into execution. As it was, they had the shame of having wished to do what they did not dare to do. At all events, the sentence, the being expelled from the navy and the House of Commons, and the kicking of his Lordship's knight's banner out of Westminster Abbey, was quite enough to show what they would have done, could they but have "screwed their courage to the sticking place."

When this prosecution was commenced, his Lordship was on board a ship of war, upon the point of sailing to cruise against the Americans, and to fight against the only free people in the universe. He was at that time not half a real Reformer, though he had certainly incurred the hatred of the Boroughmongers, by exposing the villainy of the Prize Courts of the Admiralty. He had even gone further; he had done that for which he will never be forgotten or forgiven by them. He had procured a return to be made to the House, of all the places, pensions, and sinecures, held under the Crown. His Lordship took the House rather unawares, he caught its members in a complying mood, and, like a man of war, he pressed on to conquest, and induced them to grant that which they can never recall; and for granting which they have scarcely forgiven themselves, and will certainly never forgive him as long as he lives. It was for THIS that he was prosecuted; it was for THIS that he was sentenced to stand in the pillory; it was for THIS that he was expelled the navy; it was for THIS that he was expelled the House of Commons; it was for THIS that his knight's banner was kicked out of King Henry's chapel: had it not been for THIS, he would never have been prosecuted at all; but if these things had never happened, I believe his Lordship would have never been a real Radical which now I hope and believe that he is; had it not been for this, I believe he would have still continued the ornament of the British Navy, and would never have joined to assist, by his talents and his consummate naval skill, to emancipate the South Americans from the slavery of Old Spain, the mother country, as it is foolishly called.

There were great emigrations to America, this year, 1815, both from England and Ireland, in consequence of the distressed state of the farmers, who gave up their leases, owing to the decreased prices of all sorts of agricultural productions. The average price of wheat, during the year, was sixty-four shillings and fourpence a quarter, about eight shillings a bushel; the quartern loaf was sevenpence. The supplies voted this year were EIGHTY-NINE MILLIONS eight hundred and ninety-three thousand nine hundred pounds, for England, and NINE MILLIONS Seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds for Ireland, making 99,643,900_l_. This, together with the expenses of collection, (say five millions) and ten millions paid for poor rates, makes the round sum of 114,643,900_l_. collected in direct taxes this year from the pockets of JOHN GULL, besides tithes and other et ceteras. O, brave John! thou art at any rate a hard-headed and empty-pated fellow; and all in good time thy pockets will be as empty as thy hard pate now is!

As might have been expected, France and Spain were ruled with a rod of superstition, wielded by the flinty hearts and iron hands of the Bourbons, Louis the Eighteenth of France, and Ferdinand of Spain, a precious pair of English proteges. In spite of all the pledges and securities which had been given, executions, banishments, and proscriptions were the order of the day, both in France and Spain. In France, Labedoyere and Marshal Ney fell the victims of Bourbon revenge and cowardice. A law of pretended amnesty was indeed afterwards passed, but all the relatives of Napoleon were excluded from residing in the French territory. In the unhappy kingdom of Spain the execrable and impotent Ferdinand, impotent in all but cruelty, exercised the most unlimited powers of tyranny and oppression; a sad contrast to the comparatively mild and liberal Government of Joseph Buonaparte. In Spain, almost every man who had assisted Wellington to drive out the French, in fact, every avowed friend of civil and religious Liberty, were either executed, banished, or imprisoned by the execrable and despicable bigoted tyrant Ferdinand, the beloved Ferdinand! May the vengeance of Heaven pursue him! The Parliament of England met on the first of February, when Castlereagh moved that a national monument should be erected, to commemorate the late victories; which proposition was unanimously agreed to by the "collective wisdom" of the nation. Mr. Brougham moved for a copy of the treaty signed at Paris, by the allied despots, commonly called the HOLY ALLIANCE. This was negatived by the "collective wisdom," who also refused a copy of the treaty of Vienna. John Gull had to pay for all, but John was not worthy of being trusted with such mighty secrets.

The Ministers now attempted to continue the property tax; but this caused such a ferment through the country, that public meetings were called, and petitions were presented from every part of the kingdom: the Livery of London set the example, and sounded the alarm, which flew like lightning throughout the country. Seeing that the public were alive and anxious to oppose this tax, the Whigs once more made an attempt to rally; in fact, all the landed proprietors were against it; and the leading Whigs therefore called county meetings all over the kingdom; we had a county meeting in Hampshire. It was held at Winchester, and was called by the Whigs, the leader of whom was Mr. Portal, of Trifolk, whose father had amassed a large fortune, by making all the paper for the Bank of England notes. Mr. Cobbett and myself attended, and we completely frustrated the intention of the Whigs. The Whigs, as we expected, endeavoured to make a party question of it, and all their anger was directed against the Ministers, or rather against the Prince Regent, because he would not turn those Ministers out of place, and put them in. Mr. Portal called the tax a HIGHWAYMAN'S TAX. Mr. Cobbett and myself thoroughly exposed those hypocritical Whigs, and proved to the satisfaction of our hearers, that, if it were a highwayman's tax, the Whigs had taken to the road in 1807, and robbed the people quite as much as their more fortunate opponents. I recollect that I took occasion to remind the worthy descendant of the Bank of England paper-maker, that I agreed with him fully in the designation that he had given to the tax, and to assure him that I considered those who collected it as nothing better than highwaymen; but I begged that he, as well as those that heard me, would at the same time not fail to remember that I considered him (Mr. Portal) an accomplice; for he aided and abetted them in their robbery, by acting as a Commissioner of the Property Tax, and did it with so much heart and soul, that he sanctioned not only the assessor and the collector, but likewise scarcely ever failed to confirm every infamous surcharge that the rascally inspector chose to make. This caused a burst of laughter, at the expense of the said Whig Commissioner, who looked extremely foolish. Mr. Cobbett and myself approved of their petition, as far as it went, but we moved a rider, which prayed for the reduction of the war malt tax, the reduction of the standing army, the abolition of useless pensions and sinecure places, and also for a Reform of the Parliament. The Parsons, the Whigs, and the Tories, all united and voted against us, and maintained the propriety of continuing these burdens; and we were consequently left in a minority upon a division, as always was the case at every public county meeting that I attended at Winchester, with the exception of the county meeting held upon the subject of the Duke of York and Mrs. Mary Anne Clark, of notorious memory. Upon that occasion the public feeling was so unanimous, that Mr. Cobbett's motion, for a vote of thanks to Colonel Wardle, was carried by a very large majority. Between the Parsons, the placemen and their dependants, they have always contrived, at all other times, to carry every thing before them; when I say they, I mean an union of the Whigs and Tories against the people. I also attended the meeting at the Common Hall of the Livery of London, to petition against the renewal of the Property Tax. Although the petitions were by no means so numerous, nor so numerously signed, as they were against the Corn Bill, yet as a great body of the Members of the Honourable House were personally interested in abolishing the Income Tax, they, good souls, kindly condescended to listen, or at least they pretended to listen, to the prayers of the people, and on the eighteenth of March this infamous tax was repealed.

On the nineteenth of April a Bill was passed for detaining the Emperor Napoleon Buonaparte a prisoner at St. Helena. This Bill will ever remain a hateful and foul blot upon the statute book of England. Whigs and Tories joined in passing this disgraceful Bill; an act that will be handed down to posterity as a stigma not only upon the legislature of the country, but also upon the character of the age in which such an unjust and tyrannical proceeding could be permitted. Napoleon was not the prisoner of England. The moment that peace was signed he was as free to come to England as any other man in the world, and the English Government had no more right to seize him, and carry him prisoner to St. Helena, than the French had a right to seize the Prince Regent of England, and chain him to a barren rock for life. It was arbitrary, cruel, unjust, and most cowardly. The protest which Napoleon made against being sent to St. Helena was as follows: "I hereby solemnly protest, in the face of God and man, against the violation of my most sacred rights, in forcibly disposing of my person and my liberty. I came voluntarily on board the Bellerophon, I am not the prisoner but the guest of England. As soon as I was seated on board the Bellerophon, I was upon the hearths of the British people." Alas, poor Napoleon! you ought to have known that there was then no British people; that the British people, who formerly held an influence over the mind and actions of the Government, were no more; that the people of England were become a set of abject, grovelling slaves, ready to bow the knee and bend the neck to their taskmasters! The conduct of the Ministers, in transporting Napoleon forcibly to St. Helena, and afterwards sending out such a gaoler as Sir Hudson Lowe to worry him to death, was well becoming their upstart character; for none but the basest cowards will be found to insult a fallen foe. Mr. Brougham could not hold his tongue upon the occasion, but must disgrace himself, not only as a man but as a legislator, by declaring in Parliament, when this shameful measure was brought before the House, "that the law of nations justified the detention of Napoleon at St. Helena." Mr. Brougham did not condescend to tell us what law of nations; but of course he meant to say that the law of nations would justify any thing that a Government had the power to effect; this is the only standard by which modern statesmen estimate the law of nations. On the same principle, or, more correctly speaking, want of principle, an Act was passed, to restrict the Bank of England once more from paying their notes in cash; or, in other words, to protect them from the just demands of their creditors. The Act, however, explicitly declared that this protection should cease on the 5th of April 1818, when the Bank should positively pay their debts which they owed, and which they had so repeatedly promised to pay to the public. The Parliament was, in this case, like the shepherd boy, who so often cried "wolf," for fun to alarm the people, that when the wolf really came and attacked his flock, nobody either believed or heeded his cries. Thus it was with the Parliament; they had so repeatedly promised the people that they would make the Bank of England pay their notes, and they had so frequently broken this promise, that the people firmly believed that payments in cash would never be made. All those, too, who read the writings of Mr. Cobbett were persuaded that it was impossible for it even to be attempted, and therefore those who had any faith in his predictions were of course totally unprepared for it, on the time arriving for its being carried into effect.

On the 24th of April, 1816, Major-General Sir Robert Wilson, Michael Bruce, Esq. and Captain J. H. Hutchinson, were convicted, in Paris, of assisting the escape of the Count de Lavalette, who was condemned for high treason, and they were sentenced to three months' imprisonment. A well-written article has appeared in the Times newspaper, contrasting the mild sentence inflicted upon these gentlemen, with that which has been inflicted upon me, of two years and six months' incarceration in this Bastile.

Some time in the spring of this year, a public meeting was called of the freeholders of the county of Somerset, and it was advertised to be held at Bridgwater, John Goodford, Esq. of Yeovil, High Sheriff. I forget now what was the precise object of the signers of the requisition, but I believe that it was to congratulate the Regent upon the marriage, or the intended marriage, of the Princess Charlotte of Wales, to the Prince of Saxe Cobourg. This I know, however, that the meeting was called by that faction in the county, at the head of which stood the Rev. Sir Abraham Elton, Bart. By accident I saw, in a London paper, the advertisement for this meeting, and though I was then residing in town, I made up my mind to attend it.

When I arrived at Bridgwater, I put my horses up at the Globe, and during the time that I was changing my dress, I saw the country people and farmers ride into the town in droves, but I did not see a single soul whom I knew; and being a perfect stranger in the town of Bridgwater, I had to make my way up to the hustings alone. As, however, I passed up the street, Mr. Tynte, the present Member for that town, accosted me, saying, "Well, Mr. Hunt, what are you come here? I really believe that the meeting was called in this town because you were not known here, and therefore it was expected, or rather hoped, that you would not come. At Wells they knew you would carry any proposition that you might choose to bring forward, and I really believe it will be the same here." After this salutation from him I passed on; he took one side of the street, and I the other; for as he was a magistrate of the county, and one of the gang, it would not have been at all in character to have seen him walking at the same side of the street with me.

I reached the hustings just in time, and up I went with the rest. Little Squire Goodford opened the proceedings, and had the requisition read, after which he called upon the people to hear all parties that might choose to address them, &c. &c. &c. Sir Abraham Elton next came forward, and addressed the meeting in one of the most bombastical and ridiculous speeches that I ever heard. He expatiated upon the GLORY that we had acquired by the war, and the overthrow of Buonaparte, and predicted that peace, plenty, and their concomitant train of blessings, would strew the path of John Bull. Of the virtues of the Prince of Saxe Coburg, he spoke in high-sounding terms; and he drew the conclusion that the union between him and our Princess Charlotte would contribute greatly to the happiness, and even safety, of the British people. Some one of the same kidney followed him, and seconded his motion in a similar strain of sublime humbug and nonsense.

While this farce was performing by the Rev. Baronet and his band, and while the people of Somerset, who were assembled to the amount of six or eight thousand persons, were gaping and swallowing all the stuff and trash dealt out to them by these worthies, a Mr. Trip, a gentleman of the lower part of the county, a barrister, addressed himself to me, requesting to know if I meant to propose any amendment. I told him I had some resolutions of a very different nature, which I certainly meant to move as an amendment. He then shewed me some resolutions which he had drawn up, and which he had intended to propose as an amendment, if no others were offered. Upon reading them over, I found that they embraced all the material points contained in those which I had framed; and as they went most decidedly to object to the whole that was proposed by Sir Abraham, it was settled between us that he should move, and that I should second them. He accordingly moved them, after a very able and violent speech, which certainly contained a great deal of good matter, though it was evidently clouded every now and then by ebullitions of party spirit, which at county meetings generally shews itself. He was, nevertheless, heard with attention, and received considerable applause. The moment that I came forward to second the resolutions, a murmur ran through the crowd to know who I was; and, on my name being announced, I was instantly honoured with three cheers. In seconding Mr. Trip's resolutions, I certainly took rather different ground upon which to found my arguments. I ridiculed, in indignant language, the idea of granting sixty thousand a-year to a young German adventurer, merely for marrying our Princess, and of giving them fifty thousand pounds as an outfit. But the most monstrous and most infamous proposition of the whole, I considered that of settling fifty thousand a-year upon him for life, in case of the decease of his wife. It was, I said, a premium upon her death.

I was going on amidst the laughter and cheers of the whole multitude, when little Mr. Goodford, the Sheriff, interfered to call me to order; adding, that as he stood there as the representative of the King, and as a loyal man, he could never suffer the Royal Family of England to be spoken of in the way in which I had spoken of it, and he insisted that I should not go on so in his presence. This interruption was received with evident marks of disapprobation. Never at a loss upon such an occasion, I replied, that I considered myself quite as loyal a man as Mr. Goodford, both to the King and the people, and that, as the meeting appeared almost unanimously disposed to hear me, Mr. Goodford, as chairman, had nothing to do but to take the sense of the meeting, which, if he did not choose to act up to, it was only for him to vacate the chair, and we would place some one in it that would. The little Sheriff did not relish the idea of vacating the chair, and therefore the question was put whether the meeting would hear what I had to say or not. The show of hands in favour of my continuing in the same strain was nine hundred and ninety-nine out of every thousand; there being only three hats, that I saw, held up against it. These three persons consisted of a little knot of placemen, led on by a notorious Custom-house scamp of that town; a tall, lanky fellow, whose head was nearly half a foot above the rest of the crowd. From the visage of this worthy projected a cocked nose of a very peculiar kind, the nostrils of which appeared to be two round holes passing horizontally, instead of perpendicularly, into his head. Upon this delicious proboscis (which was a sort of mixture between the pug-dog and a Chinese pig), was mounted a pair of silver barnicles, apparently placed there for the purpose of hiding a brace of things more resembling coddled gooseberries than human eyes. That feature which, in men, made as they ought to be, is called a mouth, was in him not entitled to the name; it being a vulgar gash, with a pair of very thick lips, extending across two dumpling cheeks, and nearly uniting a brace of tremendous asinine ears. These altogether formed something like a half-decayed turnip stuck upon a mop-stick. Let the reader only imagine to himself a figure of this sort, constantly opening the slit that I have above described, and vomiting forth at once, from a fetid carcase, the most disgusting sound and stench, and then he will have some faint idea of the scene exhibited by this animal of a Customhouse officer. After being admonished twice to be peaceable, and not attending to it, he and his satellites were handed out of the crowd, and banished from the scene of action, amidst the cheers of the multitude. This operation being performed upon the Customhouse ass and his two supporters, I proceeded to address the meeting, for the purpose of winding up the subject upon which I had been dilating, when Squire Goodford spoke to order. I certainly handled, with very little ceremony, the trash which Sir Abraham had been sporting, and, after having admonished my hearers to exercise their own judgment like Englishmen, and not be led by the nose like slaves, I concluded by seconding the resolutions which had been moved by Mr. Trip, which, of course, included a resolution declaring the necessity of a Reform in Parliament.

What followed was more curious than all the rest. Sir John Acland, the Chairman of the county quarter sessions, now came forward, and, like a cunning old fox, who saw which way the wind blew, he turned short round upon those whom he meant before to support, and declared that the resolutions moved as an amendment by Mr. Trip, and seconded by Mr. Hunt, had his full concurrence. Sir John saw which was the strongest side, and which way the current of popular opinion was rolling, and therefore he was determined to come in for his share of merit, by joining in the cry and running with the stream. Upon a shew of hands our amendment was carried by a majority of one hundred to one, at least. I never saw a man so delighted as Mr. Counsellor Trip was, I thought he would have jumped over the hustings for joy. It was evident to me that this success came upon him unawares, and that, although he had made up his mind to move an amendment, yet he had not the slightest idea that it would be carried. I was more accustomed to these things, and took it more coolly; in fact, I felt it necessary to admonish him to bear his victory with more becoming joy, and not to exult so outrageously. A vote of thanks was passed to little Squire Goodford, the nominal High Sheriff; I say nominal, for, in fact, all the Sheriffs of this county, for many, many years, have been called pauper Sheriffs, and have been merely nominal High Sheriffs; Messrs. Perpetual, or rather Messrs. Alternate Sheriffs, that is to say, Messrs. Mellior and Broderip, being the real or bona fide Sheriffs, their masters having been their mere puppets or nominal Sheriffs.

When the meeting was dissolved, almost the whole assembly followed, or rather attended me to my inn, where I was obliged to address them from the window, before they could be prevailed upon to depart. Every one appeared delighted with the result of the meeting, except poor Sir Abraham, the Sheriff, and a little knot of Whigs, who had meant to curry favour with the Prince Regent, by presenting to him an abject, time-serving address from the county of Somerset; but who had been foiled, and, in a great measure, by my exertions. Sir Abraham, and his friend the Sheriff, looked most wretchedly; no Frenchman ever shrugged his shoulders with a more emphatic expression of disaster, than the Rev. Baronet did; and he really reminded me of the knight with the rueful countenance. Will any man who reads this believe that the worthy Judges of the Court of King's Bench had not the effect of this meeting in their mind, when they sentenced me to be confined TWO YEARS AND SIX MONTHS in Ilchester Bastile, where they well knew the Rev. Baronet and the worthy Squire were two of the VISITING MAGISTRATES? Will any one who reads this have the least doubt, that those who have persecuted me here have been actuated by the cowardly feeling of wishing to be revenged upon me, now that they have me in their power, because I defeated their ridiculous and time-serving projects, and exposed their folly at the said county meeting at Bridgwater? Can any one doubt that the Ministers ordered their tools to send me here, that their underlings might exert their petty tyranny, in order to annoy me?

On the twelfth of May, in this year, the Prince of Saxe Coburg was married to the Princess Charlotte of Wales. The Parliament, as I have before observed, gave them for an outfit fifty thousand pounds of John Gull's money, and settled sixty thousand pounds a-year of the said John's money, and also settled upon him as a dower, for his life, fifty thousand pounds a-year, in case of her death: so that this hopeful German now receives annually out of the pockets of the distressed people of England fifty thousand pounds a-year, while the President of the United States of America only receives six thousand pounds a-year; so that Saxe Coburg does us the honour to drain the people of England of a sum more than eight times as much as the President of the United States of America receives from the people of that country, for attending to all their affairs, and presiding as the Chief Magistrate of a vast and free country, containing ten millions of people.

In the middle of May there were disturbances at Bideford, from the poor endeavouring to prevent the exportation of potatoes. There was also a riot and great disturbances at Bury, by the unemployed, to destroy a spinning-jenny. On the 24th, a great body of farmers and labourers assembled in a very riotous manner at Ely, and committed many depredations. They were at length suppressed, after some blood had been spilt. On the 28th, there were great disturbances, amongst the pitmen and others, at Newcastle-upon-Tyne. On the same day a serious tumult occurred at Halstead, in Essex, to liberate some persons who had been taken up for destroying threshing-machines. On the 2d of July, the Prince Regent prorogued the Parliament, after a new Alien Bill, and a Bill to regulate the Civil List, had passed. On the 12th of July, 1816, there was a public funeral of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Esq. certainly the most brilliant and accomplished orator of the age. In my opinion, he far surpassed either Pitt or Fox in real eloquence, and, in the midst of all his changings and vacillations, he was always, without one exception, the steady and zealous friend of the liberty of the press. Poor Sheridan was always in pecuniary difficulties, and overwhelmed with debt; and he at last became quite a swindler in order to evade his creditors, and he died at a time when he could not obtain credit for a pot of porter. On the 22d, the Duke of Gloucester, who was called by the Royal Family Silly Billy, was married to one of his cousins, the Princess Mary. Fortunately for the public, they have, I believe, no children for John Gull to keep. On the 2d of August, a riot took place in the Calton, one of the suburbs of Glasgow, on account of the soup-kitchens, which was not suppressed till some blood was spilt. On the 8th of the same month, a mortar of uncommon size, left by Marshal Soult on his retreat from Cadiz, was fixed in St. James's Park, opposite the Horse Guards. This piece of ordnance is commonly known by the name of the Prince Regent's bomb. On the 27th, Algiers was bombarded, and the batteries destroyed by the English fleet, commanded by Lord Exmouth—a treaty was entered into afterwards, by the Dey of Algiers and Lord Exmouth, in which Christian slavery was abolished. On the 16th of September a riot and great disturbance took place at Preston, in Lancashire, by the distressed and unemployed workmen. There was also a riot at Frome, in consequence of a sudden rise of one-third in the price of potatoes, in which riot the Yeomanry Cavalry sustained a defeat, and were driven from the field of action by the stones, potatoes, and rotten eggs that were hurled at them by the multitude, several of whom were taken into custody. One of that anomalous hermaphrodite race called Parson-justices, a person of the name of Sainsbury, read the Riot Act, and called out the cavalry. But, by the judicious conduct of Mr. Champness, of Orchardleigh, the disturbances were quelled, and peace was restored. A Mr. Thornhill, who was a paid agent and adjutant of the Somerset Yeomanry Cavalry, who came over from Bath on the following day, after all was peace and quietness, wrote a letter to the Editor of the Courier newspaper, giving a most ridiculous and false account of the whole transaction. In order to ascertain the truth, as to what really took place, I drove over from Bath, with Mr. Allen of Bath, and having detailed the circumstances to Mr. Cobbett, he handled the brave blustering Captain in a masterly stile, and fixed upon him the name of Captain Bobadil, which will last him as long as he lives. Captain Bobadil and the battle of Frome will not readily be forgotten in the west of England, nor, indeed, in any place where Mr. Cobbett's Register was read, which was now published at TWO-PENCE a number, and in consequence had increased ten-fold in its circulation. There were also great riots at Nottingham, by persons calling themselves Luddites; these consisted of unemployed workmen, who went about in the most lawless manner, destroying the frames by which the stocking manufactory was carried on. There were riots, too, at Myrthir-Tydvil, in Glamorganshire, by the workmen employed in the iron-manufactories, on a reduction of wages; and at Walsall, in Staffordshire, amongst the distressed and unemployed workmen.

In fact, great distress and dissatisfaction prevailed, not only in England, Ireland and Scotland, but all over Europe, which was in a calamitous state, produced by the reaction of the war, the fatal effects of which now began to be felt most severely. The distress amongst the farmers was very great, and the agricultural gentry began to cry out most unmercifully. The fools now began to find out that what I had told them was true, namely, that the Corn Bill would not ultimately serve them, that it was never intended by its promoters for any other purpose than to enable the Government, by means of keeping up the price of corn, to continue to extract from the farmers high rents and high taxes. In many parts the manufacturers likewise suffered greatly, particularly in Staffordshire, South Wales, and the Metropolis, and especially amongst the poor weavers in Spitalfields. The truth was, that the Bank of England had curtailed the issue of their notes, in order to meet the demands of their creditors, which they expected they should be compelled to pay in cash, instead of being longer protected by a pretended restriction, designed to prevent them from being called upon to pay any thing more than "I promise to pay," in exchange for "I promise to pay." This restriction was nothing more nor less than a Government protection against the demands of their creditors, which enabled them to refuse to pay their just debts with impunity, and according to Act of Parliament. Distress and discontent therefore prevailed from one end of the land to the other, but in no place more than the metropolis, which was full of discharged seamen, who had been dismissed from the British Navy, which was now dismantled almost universally. These poor fellows, who had fancied that they had been fighting the battles of their country, who had suffered all the hardships of a sailor's life, during a long and bloody war, and who had been successful against every power for such a length of time, had become exceedingly disheartened by the checks and defeats they had experienced in the naval warfare with the Americans, who, if I may use a familiar phrase, had completely taken the shine out of the British seamen, a race proverbial for being very superstitious. They had always boasted that an English sailor was a match for two Frenchmen, or any other seamen; but Jack found in the American sailor not only his equal in bravery and skill; but more than his match. Thus dispirited and almost broken hearted, and the British Navy being laid up, our sailors were discharged and treated worse than dogs; they were put on shore at any port, and they had to march to London, barefooted and pennyless, to receive the little pay and prize money that was due to them. Hundreds and hundreds did I relieve, as they passed by Middleton Cottage; broken down in body and in spirit, they were made to feel that they had been fighting for despotism instead of Liberty. Soup Committees were established, and subscriptions raised all over the kingdom, to supply the starving poor with soup; but to the offer of it they replied, that they did not want charity, they wanted work, and they would much rather live upon a scanty meal, the fruit of their own labour, than be feasted by charity.

Some time in the early part of September, I received a letter from London, signed A. Thistlewood, requesting me, when I came to town, to do him the favour of a call, as he had to communicate to me matters of the highest importance, connected with the welfare and happiness of the people, to promote whose interest he had always observed that I was most ready and active, &c. &c. As Mr. Thistlewood was a perfect stranger to me, and as I was a stranger even to his name, I wrote to a Mr. Bryant, a quondam attorney, and Clerk of the Papers at the King's Bench; a man who was said to know every body and every thing that was going on in London, both in high and low life;—I wrote to this gentleman, and requested him to inquire at such a number for Mr. Thistlewood, and let me know who and what he was, as I had received rather a mysterious letter from him, and I wished to know something of him before I gave him any answer. The answer which I received from Mr. Bryant was such that I never replied to the letter of Mr. Thistlewood, or took any further notice of it.

Some time, however, in the beginning of November, I received a letter from London, signed Thomas Preston, Secretary, to say that a public meeting of the distressed inhabitants of the metropolis was advertised to be held in Spafields, on Monday, the 15th of November, and that he was instructed by the Committee to solicit my attendance. This letter was dated from Greystoke-place, and the writer requested an answer, which I gave him by return of post, desiring to be informed what was the object of the meeting. I received a reply, stating, that the object was to agree to a memorial to the Prince Regent, setting forth their grievances, and praying for relief. I instantly wrote, to say that I accepted their invitation, and I would attend the meeting at the time appointed.

On the next day I rode over to my friend Cobbett, at Botley, to consult with him what was best to be done. When I mentioned the circumstance to him, he looked very grave, and said it was a dangerous experiment, and he scarcely knew how to advise me, whether to go or not. "Oh," said I, "make your mind quite easy upon that point; there is no difficulty in it, I have accepted the invitation, and I mean to attend the meeting. The moment that I ascertained that it was for a legal purpose, that of addressing the Prince Regent upon the distressed state of the people, and praying for redress, I no longer hesitated, but accepted the invitation, and promised to be there in time. All that I want you to do, therefore, is, to assist me in drawing up some resolutions, and preparing a proper address to be presented to his Royal Highness upon the occasion." "That," said he, "I will do with great pleasure." After due consideration the resolutions and the address were agreed upon, and drawn up by him. Mr. Cobbett never mentioned one word to me that he had been invited by the same party to attend this said meeting; but he said he should be at his lodgings in London at the time.

I arrived in London the Saturday before the intended meeting, and called at Graystockplace, to inquire for Mr. Thomas Preston. I found no one there but two or three dirtily dressed, miserable, poor children, who told me that I should find their father at some house in Southampton-buildings, Chancery-lane. Thither I repaired, meditating as I went along on the wretched emblem of the distresses of the times, which I had just witnessed in the family of Mr. Thomas Preston. When I reached Southampton-buildings, I knocked at the door, and inquired for Mr. Preston. The servant said there was no such person there, but she would go and inquire of Mr. Thistlewood and the Doctor. She then desired me to walk in, and I was shewn into a very neat and well-furnished dining-room. I could not avoid observing to myself the contrast between the elegant apartment I was now in and that which I had just quitted in Graystock-place; the name of Thistlewood was still tinkling upon the drum of my ear, I having quite forgotten where I had heard it before.

In a few minutes two gentlemen walked in; the one dressed in a handsome dressing-gown and morocco slippers, the other in a shabby-genteel black. The former addressed me very familiarly by name, saying, that he was Mr. Thistlewood, and he begged to introduce his friend Dr. Watson. They at once informed me that they were part of the Committee, for whom Mr. Preston acted as Secretary; that they had called the meeting, and directed their Secretary to invite me to attend it, and that they had also written to invite Sir Francis Burdett, Major Cartwright, Mr. Waithman, Mr. Cobbett, and several other political characters. I then inquired what was the nature of the memorial or address which they meant to submit to the Prince Regent? They answered, that they had it not then by them, but that, if I wished it, they would procure me a sight of it before I went to the meeting. To this I replied, that I certainly did not wish merely for a sight of it, but for something more; as, if I attended the meeting to take any part in it, I should choose to have time to peruse the memorial very minutely before I undertook to give it my support. This they promised I should have an opportunity of doing, and the Doctor appeared anxious to have my opinion upon it. I could, however, see that Mr. Thistlewood had set his heart upon this memorial as it stood, and he slightly intimated that the Committee had made up their minds on the subject, and that it was finally settled that the memorial was to be submitted to the meeting. I inquired who the Committee were composed of, and I soon found that Mr. Thistlewood and Dr. Watson, the two gentlemen before me, were in reality the Committee; young Watson, Preston, Hooper, Castles, and one or two others, who formed the remainder of the Committee, being merely nominal members. I informed them that I was staying at Cooper's Hotel, in Bouverie-street, which makes part of the Black Lion Inn, in Water-lane, where they promised to wait upon me in the evening with the memorial, that I might look it over.

Mr. Thistlewood and the Doctor came at the appointed hour, and brought the document with them. It was very long, and filled several pages closely written upon foolscap paper. As soon as I had read the first resolution, I was satisfied in my own mind as to how I ought to act with respect to this voluminous production; but when I had read to the bottom of the first page I closed the book, and very seriously informed my visitors that it evidently contained treasonable matter, and that nothing more than the overt act of holding the meeting, to carry the scheme into execution, was required to make all that were concerned in it liable at least to be indicted for high treason. I certainly should not, I told them, countenance any such measures as were proposed even in the first page, and the project of marching in a body to Carlton House, to demand and enforce an audience of the Prince Regent (which formed a part of their design), was quite preposterous, as well as unjust and unreasonable. As a private gentleman, I myself would not submit to be intruded upon in such a manner, and it was very unreasonable to expect that it could be endured by the Chief Magistrate of the country. I found, in fact, that the whole affair was made up of Spencean principles, relating to the holding of all the land in the kingdom as one great farm belonging to the people, or something of that sort. I told them my ideas upon the subject, which were, that the first thing the people had to do, in order to recover their rights, was to obtain a Reform of the Commons' House of Parliament. When once the people were fairly and equally represented in that House, such propositions as were contained in their memorial might then be discussed, but for one set of people to dictate to any other what should be the law, I maintained to be arbitrary and unjust. The Doctor very readily concurred with me, and he asked my advice as to what was best to be done. I replied, that the only course to be pursued was, to pass certain resolutions, pointing out the distressed state of the country, and the absolute necessity of Reform, to save the wreck of the constitution, and declaring that the only Reform that would be of any avail must be upon the principles of Annual Parliaments, Universal Suffrage, and Vote by Ballot. They both at once agreed to the propriety of my suggestions, and requested that I would prepare some resolutions, and an address to his Royal Highness, which they also begged me to propose to the meeting, and they would support them. I asked them if they did not expect the attendance of any other of the public characters to whom they had written? To this they replied, that I was the only person who had accepted the invitation. The Doctor and Mr. Thistlewood promised to take care about the hustings being erected in Spa-fields, and the former was to call on me on Monday morning, to prepare and transcribe the resolutions and the petition which were to be submitted to the meeting.

The Doctor came at the time appointed, and he copied the resolutions and the petition which I had drawn up, which, with some few alterations and additions, were the same as were agreed upon by Mr. Cobbett and myself at Botley. Before we had finished these, a messenger arrived, to say that an immense number of persons were assembled in the front of the Merlin's Cave public-house, in Spa-fields, and that they were impatient for our arrival. Upon this, the Doctor and myself got into a hackney-coach, and drove immediately to the spot, which was covered by much the largest concourse of people I had ever seen together in my life. We were hailed with the most deafening shouts, and, with some considerable difficulty, we were driven to the summit of the hill, surrounded by the multitude. Upon inquiry where the hustings were, I found that nothing had been done or thought of towards the erecting of them. In this dilemma I mounted upon the top of the hackney-coach, and was immediately followed by the Doctor and another person, which person, without further ceremony, hoisted a tricoloured flag, red, white, and green! The bearer of this flag was no less a personage than the notorious Mr. JOHN CASTLES, a gemman that I had never seen before. I soon found that it was impossible to address such an immense multitude from such a situation as that of the top of a coach, and as the wind blew very sharp, our birth was a very disagreeable one. While we were looking round for a better situation, we were hailed by some gentlemen from the window of a house in the neighbouring row, and a young person, whom I afterwards found to be Mr. William Clark, having made his way to the coach, invited me to enter the house opposite, and to address the multitude from the window; and, as the party who were assembled in that room still kept beckoning me to join them, I readily assented. We dismounted and followed Mr. Clark, who led us up stairs into the front room of the Merlin's Cave public-house, which I afterwards found had been taken by, and was partly occupied by, the Magistrates, accompanied by a number of the officers of the police and the reporters of the public press. The sashes were immediately removed from the window, and I presented myself to the assembled multitude amidst universal shouts of applause. I found myself surrounded by strangers, there being scarcely a man in the room I had ever before seen, with the exception of Mr. Clark and some of the reporters of the public press. I proposed that Mr. Clark should take the chair, which proposal was seconded, and carried by acclamation. I was the only person present who was known to the multitude as a public man. I had often appeared before the people at Palace-yard, and at the Guildhall of the city of London, and I was instantly recognized by them. In fact, I believe that it had been publicly placarded and advertised that I had accepted the invitation to attend, which had been sent to me by the Committee, and I was, therefore, expected. The Chairman having, in an appropriate speech, briefly opened the meeting, I stood forward to move the resolutions, which I prefaced by a speech of about an hour in length. I pointed out the enormous sums paid by the public for what is called the Civil List, amounting in the last year to 1,038,000£; and in the same year, on account of deficiencies of the said Civil List, 584,713£ more; and for the Civil List for Scotland, 126,613£ additional, making in the whole, for the Civil List of that year, ONE MILLION SEVEN HUNDRED AND FORTY-NINE THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIX POUNDS. I showed that the expense of keeping up the army, including the ordnance, was 26,736,017£; that the additional allowance to the Royal Family that year was 366,660£; that the secret service money was 153,443£; and that the sum voted for the poor clergy of the Church of England was 100,000£. I also read a list of some of the most profligate sinecurists and pensioners, male and female, in which I included a sufficient sprinkling of ladies and gentlemen belonging to both the great factions of Whigs and Tories, taking as nearly as I could an equal number from each of them. Among those whom I specified were the Marquis of Buckingham and Lord Camden, the two Tellers of the Exchequer, whose sinecures at that time were about thirty-five thousand a-year each; Lord Arden, the elder brother of Perceval, thirty-eight thousand a-year; Lords Grenville and Erskine, &c. &c. &c. Amongst the number of lady pensioners I noticed Lady Auckland, Lady Louisa Paget, Mrs. Hunn, the mother of Mr. Canning, &c. &c. I represented these persons as contributing to the distresses of the country, by taking such large sums out of the taxes, without doing any thing for it. I contended that the enormous weight of taxation alone produced the misery under which the people were groaning, and that the sole cause of such heavy impositions being placed upon the people, arose from the corrupt state of the representation in the Commons' or people's House of Parliament; and I laboured strenuously to convince them that the high price of bread and meat did not originate with the bakers and butchers, as was falsely asserted to be the case by the corrupt conductors of the daily press. I demonstrated to them the folly of wreaking their vengeance upon unoffending tradesmen, who were suffering from the weight of taxes nearly as much as themselves; and I endeavoured to convince them of the superiority of mental over physical force; contending that it would be an act of injustice, as well as folly, to resort to the latter while we had the power of exercising the former. Above all things, I took the greatest pains to promote peace and good order, as the only means by which they were likely to obtain any redress for their grievances, or any alleviation of their miseries, and to convince them that to commit acts of violence was to prove themselves unworthy of relief. I concluded by reading and recommending to their adoption the four following resolutions. These resolutions were received with long continued shouts of approbation:

Resolved 1st, That the country is in a state of fearful and unparalleled distress and misery; and that the principal immediate cause of this calamity, which has fallen upon all classes of persons, except that class which derive their incomes from the Taxes, is, that enormous load of taxation, which has taken, and which still takes, from the Farmer, the Manufacturer, and the Tradesman, the means of maintaining their families, and paying their debts, and of affording, in the shape of wages, a sufficiency to employ and support their Labourers and Journeymen.

Resolved 2d, That the causes of this intolerable burden, are, 1st, the amount of a Debt contracted by Boroughmongers for the purposes of carrying on a long, unnecessary, and unjust War, the main objects of which now appear to have been to stifle Civil, Political, and Religious Liberty, and to restore Despotism and Persecution; 2d, The maintenance of an Army in France, in order to uphold the restored Despots and Priests in opposition to the express wishes of the whole French Nation; 3d, The keeping up of an enormous Standing Army in these Kingdoms, with a view of overawing the People, and compelling them to submit to War Taxes in time of Peace; 4th, A lavish and profligate expenditure of the Public Money on innumerable men and women, who are the holders of Sinecures, Pensions, Grants, and Emoluments of various descriptions, without having ever performed the smallest service to their Country.

Resolved 3d, That the sole cause of these desolating measures and practices, is the want of the People being represented in the Commons' House of Parliament, and the return of Members to that House by those base and corrupt means, which were by the Members themselves shamelessly confessed to be "as notorious as the sun at noon-day."